Engagement Period
by missmizzie
Summary: Courfeyrac and Jehan just got engaged! But after a fight in the café takes a violent turn, Jehan gives Courfeyrac his ring back. Drunk and sad, Courfeyrac wanders into an alley where he is violently raped. Who was the rapist and more importantly, can Jehan put his fiancée back together in time for the wedding? Rated M for rape, consensual sex, and mentions of child molestation
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is the first time I have ever written an M rated anything, so please be gentle. I am also a straight woman who knows nothing about gay men having sex, besides what I read in other fics. This first chapter is a build up to what is to come in later chapters, you know, background information. I plan to try to incorporate humor in this story because of the sensitive nature.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables.**

Chapter One: Roommates (this chapter is mostly smut)

All of his friends know that Valentin Courfeyrac is a player. Since reaching puberty, he has flirted with countless women and many men as well. For the past two years, Courfeyrac has lived with a close friend of his, Jean Prouvaire.

Jehan, as he was more commonly referred to, was a young poet, just one year below Courfeyrac at their University. The junior had strawberry blonde hair and was obsessed with flowers. Their apartment always had at least three fresh bouquets at any given time. Jehan braided fallen petals and occasionally whole flowers into his hair.

Both men were members of a student group with no official title. The group met several times a week to discuss politics, to study, or simply to hang out and get drunk. They often went to a café within walking distance of both the university campus and everyone's living quarters. The café was called Les Amis d l'Abaisses (the friends of the poor) due to the fact that the owner, Jean Valjean and his wife, Fantine, donated their tips and a portion of the funds to homeless shelters throughout Paris and neighboring cities. One of their most loyal customers was Julien Enjolras, the so called leader of the student political group, who was the reason the men held their meetings at the café. Because of this, the group of students was referred to as "the friends of the ABC."

Jehan and Courfeyrac have been members of the group since they started at the university. Being that they were both open about their sexuality (Jehan was as gay as they come while Courfeyrac was bisexual,) the men had helped get Enjolras and Grantaire together. Aiden Grantaire was an alcoholic art student, who only attended meetings to stare at Enjolras. Around the time that Courfeyrac moved in with Jehan, the group decided to get their leader and their drunkard together by playing spin the bottle, rigged so Enjolras and Grantaire would have to kiss. Neither of the before mentioned men wished to spin first, so Courfeyrac spun the bottle, which landed on his new roommate. To Courfeyrac's surprise, Jehan's lips were as soft as a flower petal.

Next to spin was Eponine Thenardier, a beautiful young brunette with a shitty home life. Her spin landed on Laurent Combeferre, a medical student who was also Enjolras' roommate and closest friend. Finally, Enjolras agreed to spin and all but Grantaire jumped away from their circle. To their shock, the bottle still didn't land on Grantaire. Jean Valjean had entered the backroom where the meetings were held, intent on getting some light bulbs. Thinking the boys were making room for him to get the box on the other side of the room, Valjean crossed the circle and the bottle landed on him.

"Well, I don't think that was part of the plan," Grantaire smirked. "Why don't we say to hell with the bottle and kiss?"

Less than one month later, Enjolras was moving into an apartment with Grantaire. Combeferre was not alone, however. The day after Enjolras moved out, a rather bruised Eponine moved in, along with her younger brother, Gavroche. Their sister, Azmela, wished to stay with their parents, and as she was the only child in the family not to talk back to their father, it was decided that she could stay.

As for Courfeyrac and Jehan, Courfeyrac stopped flirting with complete strangers and focused all his charm on the little poet. There had been a few more kisses after the game, but it was almost a full year before the two took things to the next level.

After one year of not having sex, Courfeyrac seemed to be in withdrawal. For some reason, Jehan always seemed to be around, but only wanted to cuddle. Finally, Jehan had to leave for a writing class while Courfeyrac had nothing scheduled. He had checked Jehan's schedule for days and knew that the class lasted for two hours. He waited until he saw the poet's car turn the corner, before racing to his room, shedding his pants on the way.

Strangely, Courfeyrac had never been good at pleasuring himself. He always felt it was perverse, he just couldn't imagine someone else's hand down there. Besides, a hand was never enough, he needed a mouth to get the job done. However, the few times he managed to get close and found his hands covered in his own pre-cum, he learnt that he was rather loud. Nothing is more humiliating than having a parent knocking on your door, asking what the hell you are doing.

With Jehan's face still in his mind, Courfeyrac began to get the desired effect. It wasn't enough, but the noises he was making were inhuman. And loud. So loud that he didn't hear his cell buzzing; signifying a text, one that came from Jehan, telling him that his class was canceled. So loud that he didn't hear the apartment door open, nor did he hear Jehan's snort when said man picked up Courfeyrac's jeans, which were lying next to the television.

Courfeyrac did, however, hear the gasp from his doorway. Imagine Jehan's shock when he walked through the slightly opened door to find his roommate, writhing in bed, hands on his dick, screaming in ecstasy. There is no telling who was more embarrassed.

Jehan was the first to break the silence. "What kind of porn are you watching?"

If possible, Courfeyrac blushed harder. "Uh… I was masturbating," he replied stupidly.

"No shit. Do you always sound like that?" Despite the awkwardness, Jehan was struggling not to laugh.

Pulling the sheets to his chest, Courfeyrac looked away. "I've never been very good at it. It's hard doing it to yourself. At least for me. It's just been almost a year since I had sex and if I didn't shove my dick into something, I was going to explode," he mumbled to the lamp on his nightstand.

Jehan blinked before inching closer to the bed. "Why didn't you say something?"

"What the hell would I have said? What would you have done?"

"I would have given you something to shove your dick into."

With that, Jehan through himself onto Courfeyrac. It was just like any other make out session, except Courfeyrac was naked from the waist down. With a jerk, Jehan pulled the bed sheet away and took his boyfriend in his mouth.

After close to a year, the little poet's mouth was almost enough to send Courfeyrac over the edge. When he began thrusting into the blonde's mouth, it occurred to him that he might actually choke the younger man. Sitting up, he asked Jehan, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

With a smirk, Jehan responded with a swirl of his tongue. Courfeyrac flopped back with a cry and let the poet work him until he shot down his throat.

Both men panted as Jehan lay down next to the larger man. With slow movements, Jehan began to unbutton Courfeyrac's shirt. Reaching over, Courfeyrac undid the other boy's jeans and worked both jeans and boxers off Jehan's lean body. Both their shirts soon joined them on the floor.

With a sudden movement, Courfeyrac straddled Jehan and pressed their lips together. As he deepened the kiss, Jehan ran his fingers through the others dark curly hair. When Courfeyrac began nibbling his way down Jehan's chest and explored his belly button with his tongue, Jehan scratched down his neck and back. "Please…" he begged, "Please…Valentin… Take me."

Not needing to be asked twice, Courfeyrac reached into his nightstand and pulled out a condom and a tube of lubricant. Jehan briefly considered asking why the hell he kept lube in the drawer next to his bed, especially when Jehan himself sleeps on the other side of the wall. Before he could ask, though, he felt Courfeyrac fingering his entrance, slipping a finger into his hole. Jehan gasped and closed his eyes as his partner inserted a second and third finger. "Am I hurting you?" Courfeyrac asked.

Jehan fought back tears. He can't remember the last time any man asked him that during this act. "No. It's just been more than one year for me. At least three."

Courfeyrac leaned forward and pressed his lips to Jehan's before removing his fingers. Grinning as the poet sighed against his lips; Courfeyrac lubed up his member and gently entered Jehan.

The beautifully soft noises Jehan made were completely different from Courfeyrac's loud screams of pleasure. At one point, one of Courfeyrac's thrusts hit the other man's prostate. Up until this point, Jehan has been meeting the various slow thrusts with even slower one's of his own; but once his sweet spot was hit, little Jean Prouvaire jerked so violently he nearly knocked them both off the bed. His violent thrust was matched with his loudest sex noise yet; a breathy "Oh!"

Rubbing Courfeyrac's back gently, he whispered in his ear, "That's it… that's it. Oh, please… I'm so close… Val, faster…"

Obediently, Courfeyrac speed up his thrusts until finally, Jehan came with a breathy, drawn out moan, not much louder than any of his other noises. Almost as if showing off for the younger, soft spoken man, Courfeyrac's orgasm was accompanied by a loud scream.

Panting, both men laid side by side in the small bed. The sheets and pillows were littered with flower petals from Jehan's unraveled braid. Running his fingers through the red- blonde hair, Courfeyrac snuggled against his boyfriend and whispered, "Are you always this quiet?"

He expected Jehan to giggle. To give him a little kiss and to cuddle up to him. Instead, Jehan turned to Courfeyrac with a look of shock and horror. In turn, Courfeyrac gawked at him. _Doesn't he know I'm teasing?_ He thought in a daze.

Suddenly, the poet beamed at his partner. "I guess it's just in my nature!" With a quick kiss, Jehan left to get a washcloth to clean his cum off both their stomachs.


	2. With this ring

**A/N: sorry this took so long. There was so much I wanted to put into this chapter. If there are any mistakes, please let me know. I promise, things are going to pick up by the end of this chapter and definitely in the next chapter. This chapter will be longer than the last one. Again, this chapter will have smut. Enjoy!**

Chapter Two: With this ring…

Over the next several weeks, their relationship strengthened. When they weren't in class, Jehan and Courfeyrac discussed their plans for the future. Jehan wished to become a famous poet and also to open his own flower shop. He already worked part-time in the local flower boutique, which was where he got all of their bouquets for their apartment. Courfeyrac simply stated that he was just living life day he wished to find a special somebody to spend his life with.

About four months after they first had sex, Courfeyrac realized how important the blonde poet was. He had sex with countless men and women, it was always the same. A one night stand in a sleazy motel room, where he fucks the whore of the day and goes home and tosses something in the microwave. Occasionally he runs into the same person some other time and they mess around. But with Jehan, they didn't have sex; for the first time in his life, Courfeyrac made love.

In that time, the two men sold their single beds and bought a king sized bed. They put it in Jehan's room (it was the largest and had its own bathroom.) Courfeyrac's room was converted into an indoor garden for Jehan.

Things began heating up for the two around Valentine's Day. On February 10th Courfeyrac returned to their apartment after ending his shift at the university book store. As one of the few men working there, he was required to stack the shelves with textbooks and other heavy items. It wasn't too bad, but after hauling textbooks around for hours at least 4 times a week, Courfeyrac usually came home stiff. On this day, Jehan took one look at the pained grimace on his boyfriends face and grinned. "Tough day at work?"

"Do you have any idea how heavy those damn textbooks are? You carry flowers and pots all day, I carry two dozen 5 pound textbooks at a time!" That said, Courfeyrac groaned and laid his head on the kitchen table with a dull thunk.

Jehan washed his hands before rubbing his boyfriend's aching shoulders. "If you get into bed and take your clothes off, I'll give you a deep tissue massage."

Not having to be told twice, Courfeyrac jumped up and with a quick peck on Jehan's lips, he raced to their room. The poet entered shortly after to find his boyfriend face down on the bed, ass naked and dozing off. Grabbing some massage oil from the bathroom (he had wanted to give Courfeyrac a massage for some time now,) he sat on the bed and began rubbing the oil into his partners back.

Jehan first rubbed his neck and shoulders, causing Courfeyrac to turn his head so he was in a more comfortable position. Smiling as his boyfriend moaned in pleasure, Jehan moved further down his back, pressing his fingers and thumb into various spots on Courfeyrac's aching back, causing it to crack more than once. As he ran the heels of his palms up and down the older man's spine, Jehan let his glance travel to the other man's rear end.

Since their first night together, Jehan has been thinking about how best to bring up the subject of him taking Courfeyrac, instead of the other way around. He has plenty of reasons for not saying anything; he enjoys the foreplay too much to change positions, Courfeyrac is perfect and makes him feel safer than he has with any other man. He has also never topped before, always the bottom, never in charge. He has no idea what to do.

He must have stopped moving his hands, because Courfeyrac rolled over with a grunt and sat next to Jehan. "You're covered in paint."

The poet laughed; "Didn't you notice all my potted flowers in the front room? I invited Grantaire over while you were at work. We painted my garden room to look just like the sky." He snuggled closer to Courfeyrac. "I only just managed to get R out of here about half an hour before you came home. Poor thing was in withdrawal, didn't drink a drop all day. I convinced him to go home to Enjolras to experience sober sex."

Jehan stood and stretched. "I'm a bit stiff too. I'll go take a shower. Maybe we can do something when I get back?"

The last part came out as a nervous question, to which Courfeyrac answered with a suggestive wink. As a beaming poet raced to the bathroom, Courfeyrac got the supplies from the night stand. When he heard the water running, the brunette reached under the bed to retrieve his school bag and shoved a small box under his thigh.

Ten minutes later, the now clean poet entered the room, with a towel wrapped around his thin waist. He let out a frightened yelp when he was grabbed from behind and shoved against the wall. Jehan only began breathing when he felt Courfeyrac's familiar lips against his own. As his partner deepened the kiss, Jehan felt Courfeyrac's hands resting on his towel. Opening his eyes, he took in the questioning glance of his boyfriend. Jehan pulled away and gasped, "Force of habit."

Slowly, Courfeyrac knelt down before Jehan, eye level with his crotch. Jehan felt his breathe pick up, he has only received a handful of blow jobs in his life. All were unpleasant, but that may have been because of the man giving them… _No! _ Jehan ordered himself. _ Courfeyrac is not him, Courfeyrac would never hurt me. Don't think about him. Think only about Courfeyrac._

At this point, Courfeyrac was still on one knee and the towel was still in place. The only difference was the box in Courfeyrac's hands; opened to show the beautiful diamond ring. "Jean Prouvaire, will you marry me?"

Vision blurred with tears, Jehan knelt down so he was eye to eye with Courfeyrac. "Yes, Valentin Courfeyrac. I will marry you." Their engagement was sealed with a passionate kiss, before the poet lifted his new fiancée and carried him bridal style to their bed, leaving his towel on the floor with the engagement ring.

This time, Jehan straddled the larger man's body, kissing every available piece of flesh. Courfeyrac was never a big fan of foreplay; but as Jehan loved the taunting build up to the ultimate pleasure, he obliged and always took his time. This time, with Jehan kissing his body, licking and sucking the parts that brought out the strongest reactions from Courfeyrac, marking them as his own; he had to admit the teasing was painfully enjoyable. After what felt like half an hour, but was more likely five or ten minutes at the most, Courfeyrac cried out in joy when he felt the heat of his fiancée's mouth surround his cock.

Jehan had made his decision. As he worked Courfeyrac with his mouth, Jehan nervously lubed up his fingers, before it occurred to him to ask for permission. He waited until he tasted Courfeyrac's slightly salty pre-cum in his mouth before removing pulling away. "Valentin? Would it be alright if I… took you?"

For a moment, both men gawked at each other. Courfeyrac because he had never been taken before and had been told on several occasions that while it is not painful with lubricant, there is some discomfort; Jehan because Courfeyrac looked almost frightened. Eventually, Courfeyrac beamed at his fiancée, "Of course!"

Taking a deep breathe, Jehan moved off the brunette to allow Courfeyrac to adjust himself for both men to approach this new experience with comfort. Glancing at his fingers to make sure they were properly slick, Jehan gently inserted his index finger into Courfeyrac's entrance. The larger man struggled to suppress a gasp. He finally understood what other men have told him about anal, and this was only one finger. Courfeyrac felt his pulse quicken at the thought of having Jehan inside of him, when he felt a second finger worming in beside the first.

As the fingers scissor and move, one brushed against Courfeyrac's prostate. With a sharp cry, Courfeyrac thrusts at the new and thrilling experience. At that point, Jehan inexplicably froze. He was perfectly aware that his partner had cried out in joy, as opposed to pain. But still, he felt inexperienced and feared he would do something wrong. He just wanted this to be perfect. "I'm…I'm sorry Val…I can't…"

Courfeyrac blinked in shock as he felt Jehan's shaking fingers pull out of him. Staring at his fiancée who had curled into himself, he crawled towards Jehan and held the trembling boy's arms. The poet tensioned under the man's touch as if afraid of being beaten. Pressing their foreheads together, Courfeyrac whispered, "Its okay, love. You should know that I myself have never been taken. I can talk you through it if you'd like."

"Are you sure?" Jehan asked.

Smiling, Courfeyrac pulled the poet into a passionate kiss. Forgetting about the lubricant on his fingers, Jehan ran his fingers through his fiancée's curly brown hair. Moaning, the more experienced man opened his mouth to permit the younger to deepen the kiss. When Jehan slid his tongue into Courfeyrac's opened mouth, he was surprised to feel the latter's lips close around his tongue. As Courfeyrac gently sucked on Jehan's tongue, he pulled the younger man on top of him until the poet was again straddling him. With one last nervous glance, Jehan slid his fingers between Courfeyrac's legs and started where he left off, with two fingers.

"Ah…Wait…Stop…" Courfeyrac cried out in shocke and extreme discomfort, bordering on pain.

Jumping back in shock, Jehan realized that while he was playing with Courfeyrac's hair, he must have wiped off the lubricant. His stomach turned at the thought of causing his Valentin any pain. He knew from … experience… that being taken without lube was painful. "Oh… Oh God! I… I am so… so sorry! I… I didn't know!"

Courfeyrac again found himself gawking at his stammering fiancée. Jehan was back to cowering at the end of the bed, head hung in shame. _Why the hell is he so ashamed? It was an honest mistake._ Courfeyrac wondered in a daze.

"Jehan, sweetheart, come here. It's alright." The larger man whispered in a soothing tone, arms stretched out towards his trembling lover. "You did nothing wrong. I'm not mad."

With the air of a beaten dog, Jehan anxiously leaned into Courfeyrac's warm body. "I swear, it will never happen again." The blonde murmured against the brunette's neck.

The larger man laid the two of them on the bed; soothing Jehan's damp long hair with one hand, rubbing gentle circles into his arm with the other. "It's alright. Calm down. Just rest."

The two men didn't make love that night, they just slept in a comforting embrace.

Three Days Later…

The student group was meeting at the café the night before Valentine's Day. In celebration of the holiday, they were just hanging out. Valjean and Fantine were busy, serving customers partying before the big romantic day. The café closes at 11:00 pm, but they agreed to let the students stay and party; mainly because Fantine's daughter, Cosette, was dating Marius Pontmercy, another member of the political group.

Just as the normal customers were leaving, Jehan and Courfeyrac entered the café, holding hands. "Hey guys!" Jehan giggled.

"What are you so giggly about?" asked Fantine as she entered the back room with Cosette just behind her.

"Oh! Nothing really! Just…" Jehan breathed, running his left hand through his hair, letting the light catch his diamond engagement ring.

The room erupted in squeals and applause. Fantine and Cosette raced out to tell Valjean the good news. Forgetting about shooing the lingering customers out, the three returned with champagne and tequila along with glasses appropriate for both drinks. "On the house for the happy couple!" Valjean exclaimed and was met with more cheering.

After serving the students and remaining customer's glasses of champagne, the owners settled in to talk with the group of friends. Enjolras was in the center of the room, openly glaring at his boyfriend, Grantaire, who has been given his own bottle of tequila by Valjean, who was sick of being interrupted by the man for another shot. Combeferre, Eponine, and Gavroche (who was given a shot glass full of champagne) were telling Valjean all about their upcoming trip to Disney World. The siblings were also bringing Azmela, who planned to move in after the trip, due to the fact that she was getting strange looks from both Montparnasse and her father.

Cosette and Marius were snuggling in the corner, stealing kisses from each other. Fantine was talking with Musichetta, and Jehan about what the poet should wear to his wedding. "You can borrow my wedding gown! Then we can curl your hair and weave some flowers in it!" Musichetta giggled.

Two months ago, she and Lucien Joly got married. In turn, their shared boyfriend, Antoine Lesgle legally changed his name to Bossuet Joly. The odd couple was very happy together and were expecting their first child (Bossuet's condom broke shortly after the honeymoon.) The men were now making out besides Cosette and Marius.

The thought of himself in a wedding gown was too much for Jehan. He immediately slipped into gay, something he only does when he is very drunk, accompanied by an exaggerated lisp and flamboyant hand movements. "Of course, darling! Uh! I just hope I fit into it. Do you think I have the figure, baby?" He turned to Courfeyrac, who was no longer behind him.

"Valentin? Sweety, where are you?" Scanning the café, the tipsy poet found him sitting on a bar stool, with a half dressed woman on his lap.

Immediately sobered by the sight, Jehan stormed across the silent café. The students and few remaining customers gawked silently as Jehan practically shoved the woman off his fiancée and pulled Courfeyrac to his feet. "Valentin Courfeyrac! What the hell are you doing?"

The man in question slurred in response. "Isn't obvious? Ya don't have t-time for me, sh-so I f-found someone else."

Looking around, Jehan couldn't help but lower his voice, desperate to keep the conversation private. "Courfeyrac, we are engaged! Tomorrow is Valentine's Day! How dare you! Is this about the other night?"

The other man bristled before shouting at full volume. "This isn't about who takes who! You're… you're… pathetic!" He finished weakly.

At this point Bahorel, Enjolras, and Valjean were making their way to the arguing couple, in case things got ugly. Jehan glanced over his shoulder and held up his hand, signaling for the men to hold their ground. "I'm pathetic. Really? I'm pathetic. Well, at least I'm not an insecure bastard that has to fuck anything with a hole! You think you got the shitty end of the deal? I'm engaged to a fucking slut!"

None of the students have ever heard Jehan shouting at anyone in such a way. By now, the girl Courfeyrac had been flirting with had fled the building, followed by all lingering customers, leaving the students and owners to witness the argument. The silence in the room was broken by a sharp slapping sound.

Bahorel, Enjolras, and Valjean jumped into action. The women and Gavroche gasped the second Courfeyrac's hand came in contact with Jehan's face. Again, the now shaking poet stopped the other men from fighting his battle. Courfeyrac was holding his hand; the sting in his right palm was enough to bring him to his senses. Struggle as he might, he could not tear his brown eyes from Jehan's sharp blue one's, eyes swimming with fear and pain along with other emotions.

Courfeyrac was snapped from his gaze when he felt a soft hand he recognized as Jehan's pressing something small into his still stinging palm. Looking down, he saw the diamond ring he had given the poet; the one Jehan hasn't taken off for three days. Courfeyrac looked back into the poet's now frozen blue eyes. "I'm done Courfeyrac. Just… go."

Backing away, Courfeyrac gawked at his… fiancée?... Boyfriend?... Poet?... What the hell was he to him now? When he didn't move, Valjean stepped forward. "He said get out."

Swallowing thickly, Courfeyrac shoved the engagement ring into his pocket and fled the café. Little did he know, a large shadow followed him.

**A/N: Sorry if the fight wasn't so good. It was difficult because I was siding with Jehan and there was no excuse for Courfeyrac's behavior. Please review.**


	3. A stunned cafe and a deserted alley

**A/N: I will try to update at least once every week. That being said, this chapter is going to include a rape. You have been warned.**

Chapter 3: A stunned café and a deserted alley

At the Les Amis de l'abaisses café; 11:55 pm

The silence that followed Courfeyrac's departure was almost painful. Jehan could feel the eyes of his friends on him, or more specifically, on his swelling cheek. Apparently, Courfeyrac put enough force in his slap to bring a Bahorel sized man down; how the little poet remained standing was anyone's guess. Shaking, Fantine made her way to the freezer behind the bar for some ice, only to be knocked aside by a panicking Joly.

The minor scuffle snapped the other students from their daze. Enjolras pulled out a chair and, with the help of Valjean, force Jehan into a sitting position. Gavroche removed the poet's hand from the injured cheek and held Jehan's hand as Combeferre examined the damage. Musichetta gripped Bossuet's hand as they watched their boyfriend/husband ice the shaking poet's cheek. While most students were doing something, nobody spoke and the café remained silent.

Jehan was the first to speak up, saying the last thing the others expected. "It's my fault. I should not have put Valentin on the spot like that. I should have held my tongue."

Slamming his bottle down, Grantaire joined the crowd surrounding Jehan. Kneeling down to eye level, the drunken man addressed the poet in a shockingly calm tone. "Jehan. You are not to blame for this. Courfeyrac's the one who made a mistake. Trust me, I know how you feel right now, but no matter what was said, he had no right to strike you."

The younger man looked away, tears welling in his eyes. "He only hit me because I was out of line. I should not have called him a whore. He didn't deserve that."

"Yes he did!" Gavroche snapped, furious by his best friend's behavior. "Courfeyrac is a douche bag!"

Glaring at her younger brother, Eponine joined the Jean Prouvaire Support Team. "Jehan, please don't blame yourself. You did nothing wrong."

Taking the ice pack from Joly (who had been checking for a concussion,) Jehan gathered his things. Glancing longingly at his left ring finger, he paused at the door. "I'm going home. Do you think Valentin will give me my ring back?"

Cosette, Grantaire, and Enjolras all jumped up, not about to let Jehan be alone. But the poet looked at the three and shook his head sadly before bolting to his apartment.

Three blocks away in a dark alley; 12:01 am

Courfeyrac ran as far as he could before the sobs raking his body forced him to stop. Drunk and devastated, the brunette curled up just inside of a dark alley and wept, reaching into his pocket to finger the engagement ring Jehan had just returned. While he was confused about exactly what had happened, Courfeyrac was aware that he had fucked up big time. _Will Jehan ever forgive me? Will he still want to marry me after all this? How can he still love me? _ The unspoken questions racing through Courfeyrac's mind only made him cry harder.

After several minutes of pathetically sobbing alone in what must be the most disgusting alley in Paris, Courfeyrac got the sense that someone was watching him. With alcohol still affecting his thoughts, he assumed that it was one of his friends and ignored the person, too ashamed to acknowledge someone who had witnessed his earlier behavior. He continued to ignore the person as they crept closer to him, as he felt warm, honey scented breathe on his neck, as he realized this was not a friend. Courfeyrac's already racing heart was about to explode when the stranger's hand slipped under his shirt and the strange man whispered in his ear, almost seductively, "Happy Valentine's Day."

Courfeyrac froze in fear as he was roughly hauled to his feet and pinned to the wall with the other man's honey flavored lips pressed hard against his own. That wasn't the only thing that was hard. In a desperate attempt to salvage what was left of his dignity, Courfeyrac shoved the larger man away and tried to bolt. Unfortunately for Courfeyrac, the man was larger, completely sober, and had a knife which was now sticking out of Courfeyrac's forearm.

The young man's cries of fear and pain were muffled by some sort of fabric being forced into his mouth. The knife was withdrawn with a sharp twist, earning the attacker another muffled cry, before Courfeyrac was pressed face first against the wall. The older man almost playfully removed the boy's jeans and boxers; he himself was already naked from the waist down. His own underwear was keeping the hysterical student quiet.

Courfeyrac was in a blind panic. His bare penis was pressed against the rough brick wall, a man who was not Jehan (nor anyone he ever fucked) had his lips pressed against his collarbone, a knife against his spine and was using his other hand to spread his cheeks. His stomach churned just thinking about the smelly fabric stuffed into his mouth, he knew it must be the stranger's underwear and was trying to ignore his taste buds. Courfeyrac felt something pressed into his clenched fist and realized he was squeezing Jehan's engagement ring.

_Jehan. _ He thought, fresh tears streaming down his face. _Jehan was right. I am a fucking whore._

Almost as if on cue, Courfeyrac's attacker forced his way into the young man's anus. The pain was immediate and intense, traveling from Courfeyrac's ass to his groin, his stomach, even traveling up his spine. Distracted by the pain and the knife now pressed to the back of his neck, Courfeyrac loosened his grip on the ring and dropped it without realizing it.

As the rapist continued to thrust into the student, Courfeyrac suddenly remembered the night Jehan became his fiancée, when the poet forgot to reapply the lubricant. What the brunette would give to have Jehan thrusting his two dry fingers inside of him; he would take that every night if only to get rid of this monster pinning him to the wall. _No! Don't think about Jehan. Not right now._ Courfeyrac thought weakly.

The stranger began moving faster behind the student. At one point, this man brushed his victim's prostate, forcing Courfeyrac to thrust into the wall, leaking pre-cum. Instantly, the young man felt disgusted with himself; the snickering of the rapist did nothing to help. Finally, after God knows how long, Courfeyrac felt hot cum shoot up his ass and settle to boil in his stomach.

Finished, the honey-scented man backed away and watched the gagging boy slide down the wall. Thinking the torment was over; Courfeyrac crawled as fast as his aching body allowed him in the direction of his clothes. Suddenly, the shaking man felt large hands wrap around his ankles, dragging him backwards before the attacker began kicking him.

At this point, Courfeyrac tried to block out the pain and found himself thinking about the other night when he and Jehan showered together in preparation for the meeting. Like all the showers they took together, Jehan ended up with his back against the wall, with Courfeyrac taking him. Jehan later sank to his knees and suckled the inside of his partner's thigh before blowing him.

Lost in thought, Courfeyrac didn't realize the effect of his memory until he found himself on his back and the stranger eyeing his erection. With an evil smirk, the older man leaned over until his lips brushed against Courfeyrac's ear, his voice as smooth as the honey on his breathe. "Well! Someone likes things rough!" That said, the stranger gripped Courfeyrac's length and gave it a sharp twist.

The young man felt fresh tears well up in his eyes, this time he will not let them spill. The stranger's other hand, the one holding the knife loosely, trailed down his stomach and Courfeyrac bit back a giggle, cursing his ticklishness. The pleasure the rapist felt by the broken boy's torment was interrupted when he caught sight of the hickey Jehan had made just three hours prior. Dragging the knife down, the man slowly pressed the knife down and skinned off the small bruise on Courfeyrac's right thigh. Courfeyrac bit down on the man's underwear, which was still in his mouth, as the knife dug into his skin. When the stranger began to suck on his left thigh, Courfeyrac went to tighten his grip on Jehan's engagement ring, only to find it was gone.

As Courfeyrac began to panic, the rapist began to feel bored with his victim. With a groan, he removed his mouth from the boy's leg and wrapped his mouth around Courfeyrac's now flaccid cock. After several hard sucks and painful nips to the tip, Courfeyrac shamefully shot down the stranger's throat. Pulling himself up, the satisfied rapist violently yanked his briefs from the sobbing man's mouth. Before he began dressing himself, however, the 'honey-man' was struck with inspiration. Kneeling down for a second time, the larger man pulled his own underwear over the younger man's hips, and then pulled up the boy's jeans as well. Straightening up, the attacker pulled his own jeans up to his bare waist and bent down to retrieve Courfeyrac's underwear. Next to the boxers, the man found a beautiful diamond engagement ring. With a grin, he pocketed both boxers and ring, before returning to kick Courfeyrac for a few more moments. At long last, the middle aged man stretched in exhaustion and left the alley.

When Courfeyrac built up enough courage to open his eyes, he saw his attacker's retreating figure, his blonde hair glowing in the street lights. As Courfeyrac laid on his side, waiting to be sure the man was truly gone, he raked his brain for all medical knowledge Joly had ever given in his paranoid rants. He knew that there would be bruising, he doubted his cuts would need stitches.

With a sinking feeling, Courfeyrac realized he needed help. Not wanting to be found covered in blood in an alley, he summoned all his strength and, using a dumpster for support, dragged himself to his feet. Leaning on the wall and ignoring his body's protests, Courfeyrac limped to the entrance of the alley and looked around. For the first time, he realized that he was less than a block away from Combeferre's apartment.

Praying that Eponine and Gavroche were staying with Azmela in a motel (as they had planned to do) while Combeferre stayed at home to pack for their trip; the broken student staggered in the direction of the medical students apartment.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: In case you haven't noticed, this chapter does not have a creative name. Mainly because I have no more ideas. Just a little fact between the sad, angsty shit, it is very difficult to write this fic in a diary, but it is the only place for me to draft it without worrying about my family finding it. I can just hear my brother telling my mom that I am writing gay porn! Normally I would just type this on word and be done, but I tend to have a bad habit of not proof reading what I type. Anyway, here is the next chapter.**

Chapter Four

Enjolras was helping his best friend, Combeferre, pack for his upcoming vacation. Eponine had left with Gavroche shortly after Jehan fled the café. It was a five hour drive to their parents' house and they had promised Azmela that they would pick her up before their parents' woke up. Well, technically, Eponine also promised not to fight with either her father or Montparnasse about the situation that sent Azmela packing; the siblings decided to take things one step further and plan to have the middle child safe by 6:00 on Valentine's Day.

As their flight was leaving the next day (on the 15th), Combeferre and Enjolras were packing for both Combeferre and the two siblings. Energized by booze and the events from the last meeting, the men were still awake at 1:00 am and, like all conversations between the two, the conversation turned to Grantaire's drinking habits. "'Ferre, do you have any idea how hard I have been trying to help him cut down? And he has been doing so well, too! I had him down to one glass of wine and two beers every day! At the meeting, he went through a full bottle of Champaign and two bottles of tequila before I even left!"

Seeing that his younger friend was very close to tears, Combeferre set aside Eponine's clothing and held the younger man. "Julien, you know Grantaire had a shitty past. We all know that he will never talk about it willingly. Didn't you hear how he addressed Jehan after Courfeyrac left? What happened last night must be close to what happened to Grantaire."

Enjolras tensed up as the words sunk in. The blonde snapped his head up to look at the older man. "Laurent! You don't think he was in an abusive relationship? Who the fuck does this guy think he is?" Ignoring Combeferre, Enjolras began pacing the room, running his fingers through his long blonde curls. "I have seen him naked. He is covered in scars. But he told me his father beat him, and every time I try to get him to talk, he shuts down and gets shit faced! Oh, God! What if he got away from his father only to end up with a partner who beat him! Who would do that? Why can't he talk to me? Doesn't he know that… I love him!"

The words barely left his lips before Enjolras' eyes bulged in shock; seconds later he completely broke down. Combeferre had witnessed some similar emotional breakdowns in the past and simply held his young friend as he wept. It didn't take long for the medical student to realize that this was the first time Enjolras vocalized his love for Grantaire. Enjolras had a bad childhood as well; running away from his abusive father and alcoholic mother at 16, finding refuge with Combeferre who was 18 at the time. The two had been best friends ever since, after about four years; Combeferre knew (mostly) everything about the blonde's childhood. From the almost daily beatings he took, to cleaning up after his mother, and even his fears of expressing emotions.

Combeferre was aware that feeling love was very new for his young friend. When he first met Grantaire, Enjolras came to the older man, positive he was having some form of heart attack; after all, why would his heart be racing, why would he feel so hot and sweaty and sick to his stomach. Once Combeferre explained what he was feeling, the blonde became very frightened and begged the man who he looked to like a brother to make it go away. That, of course, is where spin the bottle came in.

"Julien, please. You have to calm down. You have to understand that it takes time to talk about abuse. After all, it took you four years to tell me everything. You just have to give him time, let him know you are there for him no matter what he tells you. Listen, maybe you can tell him about your past, not the big stuff, just the … smaller things. At least tell him you love him."

After several minutes, the young blonde man calmed down enough to continue packing. Enjolras reached into the top drawer and after grabbing a handful of socks and condoms, he finds a ring box. Opening it, Enjolras finds an engagement ring similar to Jehan's. Smirking, the younger man turned to his oblivious friend. "Well, what do we have here? Isn't this pretty!"

Combeferre turned in shock before matching his now cheerful friends smirk. "Careful, Julien. Your gay is showing."

Enjolras unwrapped a condom and flung it at the medical student, laughing. "So you're going to propose to Eponine?"

The larger man grinned as he stretched the condom out and snapped it like a rubber band at the blonde's face. "Yep. When we get to Disney. And can you keep it between us. You're the first to know and I don't want people calling everyday asking if I asked her yet!"

Tossing the "used" condom aside, Enjolras puts the ring box down and hugs his friend. "Congrats, man. 'Course, now the pleasure's on me with everyone getting married and engaged."

Combeferre snorted. "My baby's growing up!" The two men shoved each other around good-naturedly before moving on to pack Gavroche's remaining clothing. As they gave the rooms a final sweep, there was a loud knock, almost a thud, at the door.

~oOo~

It took Courfeyrac almost 40 minutes to reach Combeferre's apartment a block away from where he was raped. _No. Not raped. Attacked. I was attacked. I can't tell anyone. Enjolras would still be at 'Ferre's right now. What the hell would he think of me?_ Most of the journey went like that. The injured man trying to get his story straight; playing imaginary conversations where his friends knew the truth and neglected him, where Gavroche lost all respect for him, where Jehan spits in his face and wondered aloud why he ever wanted to marry such a weak man.

Courfeyrac's vision was blurred by tears. Wiping them away, he glanced over his shoulders and checked for the tenth time that the coast was clear. Taking a deep breathe, the student forced his battered body to go faster. He didn't want to miss Combeferre.

Finally reaching the building, Courfeyrac headed to the elevator before freezing. What if his attacker stayed in this building? The last thing he wanted was to be stuck in an elevator for six floors with the bastard. Sure he went the other way as Courfeyrac, but he could have walked around the block. Reluctantly turning away from the elevator, the young man turned to the stairs, prepared to climb the six flights to his destination.

Panting heavily, Courfeyrac dragged his protesting body to Combeferre's door, conveniently located on the other side of the building as the staircase he used. Every inch of his body throbbed; close to tears, the brunette thought that it may be easier to tell Combeferre the truth. Of course, now he must rework his plan in order to keep Enjolras clueless and to tell Combeferre privately about the assault. _Yes, _Courfeyrac thought, _this is the best. No matter how disgusted Combeferre is, he will have to keep quiet due to doctor-patient confidentiality. _

Courfeyrac did not realize how exhausted he was until he closed his eyes to compose himself and fell painfully against the door. Quickly straightening up, the student politely knocked on the door.

~oOo~

The muffled thud against the door was followed by a gentle knock. Shrugging at the medical student, Enjolras walked across the apartment and opened the door. Leaning casually against the door frame was a roughed up Courfeyrac, with a torn shirt, and a bloody face. Enjolras could tell that the brunette was struggling to hold back tears. "Courfeyrac? Is everything alright?" the older man asked in a calm voice which seemed to upset the larger man more.

"Er… h-hey Enj. Um… you see…I was… uh… is Combeferre available?" Courfeyrac stuttered in a frazzled greeting, while inwardly cursing himself.

The shocked blonde blinked owlishly at his friend. He had never seen him this way before, and frankly had no idea how to handle this Courfeyrac. With a sinking feeling, Enjolras stood aside and gestured for the younger man to enter before calling over his shoulder. "Laurent!"

Enjolras watched as his friend winced at his raised voice, then visibly jumped when Enjolras reached around him to close the door. Courfeyrac looked like a cornered feral cat; ready to claw his way to freedom. These were behaviors Enjolras occasionally saw in Grantaire after a heated argument. Enjolras' heart skipped a beat when he remembered his conversation with Combeferre about abusive relationships. Something must have happened to Courfeyrac; something bad.

Courfeyrac struggled to straighten his posture as Combeferre raced into the room, stopping short as he caught sight of his friend. Walking forward, he caught Enjolras' eye before signaling for him to move aside. Standing in front of Courfeyrac, the medical student tried and failed to catch his eyes. Ignoring the violent flinch when he placed a hand on the injured man's shoulder, Combeferre addressed him in a calm voice. "Courfeyrac, can you please tell me what happened?"

With a deep breathe, Courfeyrac tried out his lie. "Well, on my way home… I… uh…was ra-robbed. Erm… the guy also kinda… ya know… beat me up and… shit."

As a medical student, Combeferre had already assumed what the situation was and Courfeyrac's lie was almost textbook denial of a rape excuse. With a glance at Enjolras, Combeferre knew his closest friend had already figured it out as well. Praying that the blonde would keep his mouth shut, Combeferre turned to Courfeyrac. "Okay. Why don't you come with me, Courfeyrac, just so I can check for broken bones? Enjolras, can you finish packing my car?"

Enjolras gave him a strange look before nodding. Courfeyrac swallowed thickly before turning to Combeferre. "I don't have to go to the hospital, right?"

Combeferre pretended to consider this. In reality, he had decided against taking Courfeyrac to the hospital unless there was significant bleeding or if he was asked to. "No, no I don't think that is necessary. Oh, damn, I left most of my medical supplied in Eponine's car. Enjolras, can you call Joly and ask him to bring over some supplies?"

Courfeyrac tensed but remained silent as Enjolras nodded. When Courfeyrac turned to go to the guest room, Enjolras pulled Combeferre aside. "Should I tell Joly?" he hissed.

"Yes," the medical student murmered. "Just go outside and ask him to keep it quiet."

"What about Jehan?"

"Call him after Joly gets here. If Jehan gets here while we are cleaning him up, it will just make things worse. Don't tell him over the phone, this is something he should hear in person."

The two men nodded and went their separate ways.

~oOo~

Courfeyrac was sizing the bed up, trying to figure out the best way to sit on it, when Combeferre came in. Wordlessly, the medical student stood next to his friend; he too was thinking about how to approach the subject delicately. It turned out to be easier than he thought. "I was raped!" Courfeyrac blurted out frantically before falling to his knees, weeping.

Combeferre squatted down beside him, placing a gentle hand on Courfeyrac's arm, who seemed oblivious. Whispering words of comfort and encouragement, the medical student helped his younger friend to lie on his left side on the soft bed. As Courfeyrac curled into himself, Combeferre raced to the adjoined bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit he keeps in there just in case. He also filled a bucket with warm water and grabbed a towel before returning to the traumatized boy's side.

"Courfeyrac, I'm sorry _mon ami_, but I need you to take your cloths of so I can examine you. I'll be in the kitchen getting some medication that's not in the kit. Enjolras is still outside. I should be back in about two minutes. Would you like me to close the door behind me?"

Courfeyrac grimaced as he sat up to unbutton his shirt. Tears in his eyes, the brunette nodded. With a sad smile, Combeferre left the room.

As promised, the medical student returned with stronger pain killers for Courfeyrac, who was now covering his nude body with the sheets on the bed. The student was openly sobbing and was staring at his underwear in horror. Looking between the sobbing young man and the boxers that would never fit Courfeyrac's lean frame, Combeferre concluded that these were the attacker's underwear.

Quickly leaving the room, Combeferre blinked back his tears as he gathered a box of matched, a metal basin and a fire extinguisher. Then, closing the door behind him, the medical student used the nozzle of the fire extinguisher to fling the somewhat damp boxers into the basin before holding the matches out to Courfeyrac. The lighter man looked between the flat box and the metal basin before the larger man's plan sunk in. In complete silence, Courfeyrac pulled himself into a sitting position and grabbed the matches. Combeferre poured some rubbing alcohol from the first aid kit over the underwear and Courfeyrac struck a match, then two more until the basin was filled with flames, smoke burning the eyes of both men. With a nod from the younger man, Combeferre took the matches and extinguished the fire, revealing the ashes that were once some random bastard's boxers. Combeferre went to the kitchen and dumped the ashes down the sink before running the garbage disposal for good measure.

At this point, there was a knock at the door, and a muffled yelp from Courfeyrac's room. Frowning slightly, Combeferre opened the door to find Joly with a large medical bag accompanied by a sheepish looking Enjolras. "Sorry, forgot my key." Explained the blonde with a shrug.

The medical student sighed. "Never mind, Julien. When you call Jehan, though, ask him to bring Courfeyrac a change of clothes." With a nod, Enjolras turned and left the room, pulling his phone from his pocket, stopping only to pick up the spare keys Combeferre threw at his head.

Shaking his head, the older medical student led the younger one to the guest room, pausing at the door. "I'm sure Julien filled you in," Combeferre murmered. "Courfeyrac is still very shaken, so can you wait out here until I let him know you are here?" Joly nodded and backed away from the door to give the larger man room.

Taking a deep breathe, Combeferre knocked on the door before entering and sitting beside Courfeyrac. "Valentin, Joly is here. Are you ready for us to examine you? It won't take long."

Glancing over at the medical student, the curly haired man sighed. "Let's get this over with." He mumbled.

Smiling sadly, Combeferre stood to let the other medical student in.

**A/N: There you go. I finally updated. Sorry if Enjolras was a little OC, I just thought that without a revolution to plan, his main focus would and should be on Grantaire. I have been thinking about writing more on their relationship after I finish this story. I just want to keep the main focus Jehan/Courfeyrac. I promise, Jehan will be in the next chapter.**

**-Zie**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Here is the next chapter. As you all know, I am from America, so I don't know how many euros would be an acceptable tip for all the drinking Grantaire did in the café, so I just put down a random amount. Let me know it I was way off. I decided that the conversations between Jehan and Combeferre and Jehan and Courfeyrac would get their own chapter, so that will be coming (hopefully) very soon. For now enjoy. - Zie**

Chapter Five:

The physical exam was awkward to say the least. Courfeyrac mumbled in fear and discomfort as Joly bandaged the scrapes on his chest and face. Combeferre tried to speed things up for his frightened friend by examining his lower body while Joly cared for his upper body; but the younger man became agitated with two people touching him at the same time, especially with Combeferre's hands blocked from view. In the end, Combeferre held Courfeyrac's hand as Joly felt for broken bones (there were none,) checked for a concussion (there wasn't one,) and thoroughly cleaned the stab wound on his arm.

With comforting words, Joly moved to Courfeyrac's lower body. After quickly cleaning and bandaging the cut on his right thigh, Joly stepped back and knelt next to Courfeyrac's shoulder. "I'm going to need you to roll onto your side for me."

Courfeyrac quickly realized what Joly intended to do and frantically shook his head, squirming away from Combeferre's gentle touch. The older man jumped off the bed and took a placed next to the younger medical student, turning Courfeyrac's head until their eyes met. "Valentin, you have to calm down. It's just Joly. I will be right here."

Matching Combeferre's soft tone, Joly added, "This will take two minutes at the most. It may be uncomfortable but I promise I will not hurt you."

Tears streaming down his face, Courfeyrac rolled over so his body was facing Combeferre. Joly adjusted the bed sheets so they were covering Courfeyrac's penis while leaving his rear end exposed. Letting Combeferre run his fingers through his hair, the brunette squeezed his eyes shut when he heard Joly behind him snapping his gloves into place.

~oOo~

Upon returning home, Jehan stripped and put on some sweatpants and an old t-shirt of Courfeyrac's. Wiping the tears from his eyes, the poet emptied the hamper into the washing machine. He also tossed the days, or the previous day's, clothes in before running the machine. The poet then laid on the sofa and slept for about two hours before the usual nightmares woke him up.

As he transferred the laundry into the dryer, it occurred to him that he has only had those nightmares when Courfeyrac was not at home. Yawning, he went into his indoor garden and smiled sadly. Apparently the night before, his fiancée left his Valentine's Day gift inside the garden. A large box wrapped in floral wrapping paper stood in the center of the room.

Jehan couldn't help beaming. As a child, hell, even as an adult, the poet was tempted by wrapped gifts. To Jehan it was like foreplay, he knew that behind all the pretty paper there was something great just for him. The strawberry blonde was also ecstatic, thinking there must be hope for them.

Wishing to keep the hope alive, Jehan raced to the little refrigerator in the room, filled with fresh flowers waiting to be planted or arranged into a bouquet. Upon opening the lid, Jehan found a long list taped inside. It appeared to be printed off the internet. In the margin, there was a note scrawled in familiar handwriting. _Hey, babe. Found this while browsing the web for your V-Day gift. I thought of you! Enjoy-Val._ The paper listed the meanings of all flowers and herbs.

The poet felt another burst of hope fill his heart. Scanning the list and his flowers, he pulled out pink tulips (for caring,) white tulips (for forgiveness,) yellow tulips (for hopelessly in love,) and violet tulips (for faithfulness.) Not wanting to give his fiancée a bouquet of tulips, Jehan scanned the list once more. The poor man suddenly felt a chill run down his spine. _Honeysuckle,_ he read, _for bonds of love._ The boy took a deep breathe; he loved the older student more than anything but on principle he never bought honeysuckle, he just… couldn't.

After settling on forget-me-not's (for, of course, remember me forever) the poet got up to search for his cell phone to text Courfeyrac. He wanted to make sure they really were okay. _Weird, _he thought entering the kitchen. _I thought someone would have called to check up on me by now._

After checking under the sofa cushions and shifting through the flowers again, Jehan realized with a sinking feeling that he left his phone in his jeans. As if on cue, the young poet heard the dryer tumble to a stop. The poet groaned as he opened the dryer and pulled out his warm, clean phone. He was still debating whether he should bother trying that rice thing when there was a knock on the door.

~oOo~

After his Apollo stormed out of the café with Combeferre in tow, Grantaire put down his half empty bottle and asked a still shell-shocked Fantine for a coffee to go. Silently passing him the to go cup, Fantine began cleaning up after the disastrous engagement party. Glancing around, Grantaire slipped ten euro's into Fantine's apron and walked home.

The young alcoholic knew that Enjolras would have gone to Combeferre's apartment; both to help the medical student pack for his trip and to avoid Grantaire. Rubbing his eyes, the artist entered the first floor apartment he shared with his boyfriend. Enjolras felt the first floor would be best for the drunken artist. About two weeks before they began dating, Grantaire called Enjolras in hysterics; saying that while he was lost, he got locked in a very small room. Enjolras went to the artist's apartment, thinking he was in his closet or bathroom, only to enter the elevator and find Grantaire sobbing on the floor.

Stretching out on the couch, Grantaire sipped his coffee and glanced thoughtfully at the ceiling. Four floors above his head was Jehan's and Courfeyrac's apartment. Grantaire found himself wondering if the poor poet was all alone and if Courfeyrac had sobered up enough to feel like shit for treating his fiancée the way he did. Shaking his head, the drunk began to drift off.

Grantaire was woken up by his cell phone ringing next to his head. Checking his watch, he groaned and answered his phone with a friendly "What the fuck do you want?"

There was a beat of silence; Grantaire could swear he heard crickets on the other end of the phone. "Grantaire, it's Enjolras."

"Oh, shit! Hey, Apollo, sorry, kinda hung over right now. What's up?"

"Grantaire, you have to get Jehan. He is not answering his cell and Courfeyrac … needs him!" There was some more silence, and then Enjolras spoke with a breaking voice. "Courfeyrac was raped."

The artist leapt to his feet and raced into their bedroom to get changed, keeping his phone to his ear. "Oh my God! Are you at Combeferre's? Is he okay?"

"He's fine, Joly and 'Ferre are examining him. I'm outside the building right now. Please just get Jehan and a change of clothes for Courfeyrac over here, and don't tell him what happened yet. I should not have even told you."

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. I'm on my way upstairs right now. I love you, Enjolras."

Grantaire heard Enjolras choke back a sob; this was really taking a toll on him. "I love you, too, R. See you soon." With that the line went dead.

The black haired man grabbed his wallet and jammed his feet into his boots. Chugging down what was left of his cold coffee; Grantaire grabbed his keys and left the apartment, before racing to the elevator.

Less than three minutes later, the artist found himself banging on Jehan's door. The poet didn't take long to open his door, and gave a sad smile to Grantaire; suddenly feeling self-conscious about the bruise on his face and his half assed outfit. "Hey, R. I'm not really up for company, so…"

"Jehan, get dressed. You have to come with me, Courfeyrac… is hurt badly."

The poet paled and stumbled back into his apartment. Grantaire gently grabbed his arm to steady him as they walked into the bedroom. Jehan grabbed clothing from the drawers at random, frantically asking questions. "Do you know what happened? Is he in the hospital? Should I bring him a change of clothes?"

Grantaire kindly reached around Jehan and pulled out clothing that actually matched (as opposed to the orange floral pajama pants and a flannel checkered shirt) and rubbed the smaller man's shoulder. "I don't know what happened. Enjolras told me that he was… I mean, Enjolras said that he couldn't reach you. They are at Combeferre's right now. We should bring a change of clothes, though."

The poet bit his lip as he dressed in the clothes Grantaire had given him, while the later packed a bag for Courfeyrac. Jehan knew there was more. If Courfeyrac was just beaten up or something, why wouldn't they take him to the hospital? He began to feel sick; the young man felt his past creeping up on him. His experiences and this strange information lead to only one conclusion in the poet's mind; his fiancée had just been raped.

~oOo~

Combeferre was folding Courfeyrac's clothes after Joly finished the physical exam. Joly was now trying to get information out of Courfeyrac, who had pulled into himself. Putting down the torn shirt, Combeferre put a hand on Joly's shoulder in warning. "Joly, can you go see if Jehan is here yet?"

Both medical students saw Courfeyrac flinch at the mention of his fiancée. The younger man nodded and left Combeferre alone with their patient. The sandy haired man sat on the bed and held his hand out to the smaller man. "Courfeyrac, is it alright if I ask you a few questions? You don't have to answer if they make you uncomfortable."

The brunette pulled the sheets up higher over his naked body before taking Combeferre's outstretched hand. The medical student swallowed thickly before he spoke again. "I'm not sure if you are aware of this, but Jehan's engagement ring is not in your pockets."

The statement had barely left his lips before Courfeyrac began sobbing. "It's g-gone. I d-dropped it… d-during… He's g-gonna b-be s-so mad at m-me! I-It's all m-my f-fault!" the younger man buried his head under the covers, before adding in a whisper, "I'm so sorry."

Combeferre squeezed his hand and rubbed circles into his palm with his thumb. He slowly leaned forward and placed a hand on Courfeyrac's shoulder. "Valentin, you have to listen to me. You don't have to apologize for what happened in the alley. You did nothing wrong and did not deserve that treatment."

The medical student waited until Courfeyrac pulled his head out from under the covers before speaking again. "Would you like me to tell Jehan?"

Courfeyrac began to cry again. "Please, but don't tell him about his ring. I should tell him. I screwed up."

Combeferre was about to speak up but was interrupted by a knock on the door. Opening it a crack, Combeferre found Joly holding an overnight bag with Jehan pacing behind him. The older man took the bag and murmered, "I'll be out in a moment."

Closing the door, Combeferre returned to Courfeyrac's bedside and gave him the bag. He also pulled out a bottle of pills. "I'm going to talk to Jehan right now. Your change of clothes is in the bag. I'm also going to leave out a pill for you. It will help with the pain, and give you about three or four hours of sleep. Jehan will be here when you wake up."

The younger man nodded sadly. As Combeferre left the room, Courfeyrac caught sight of Jehan pacing the living room. Just before the door was closed, Jehan looked up and caught his boyfriend's wary eye.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Wow, it's almost been a full month since I began this story. I finished this chapter earlier than I thought I would, so I'm updating twice in one week. Enjoy.**

Chapter 6

Enjolras let out a sigh of relief when he saw Jehan's car park in a spot right beside him. "Jehan, is everything alright?" When the smaller man just stared at him, the blonde blushed slightly before continuing. "I've been calling your cell for nearly two hours."

By this point, Enjolras and Grantaire were practically chasing the poet as the younger man raced to the elevator. "I know. I'm so stupid. I left my phone in my jeans and put them in the wash." Once the elevator door closed, Jehan turned to Enjolras. "Well? How is he?"

Enjolras appeared to be choosing his words carefully. "I don't know. Combeferre and Joly are checking him over right now."

Jehan felt the tears in his eyes finally spilling over. He clutched the roses he grabbed before leaving the apartment. "Valentin was raped, wasn't he?" The resulting silence gave him the answer he needed.

~oOo~

When the three students entered the apartment, Jehan grabbed Grantaire by the arm and dragged him to Azmela's new room. A few days ago, he had gone with Eponine and Cosette to by make-up for the poor girl who had none of her own. The girls made Jehan go because his skin tone matched Azmela's almost perfectly. Among the new make-up was some cover up, which is what the poet was after. Rummaging through the medicine cabinet, he pulled out the bottle and handed it to Grantaire, before turning his bruised cheek to the artist. Quickly catching on, Grantaire applied the make-up, thus camouflaging the injury.

Upon returning to the living room, which was separated from Courfeyrac's room by only a door, Grantaire sat beside Enjolras on the sofa and rested his head on Enjolras' shoulder while Jehan paced the room. The door suddenly opened and Joly came out and approached Jehan. "How are you doing?"

The poet shocked him by scowling and shoving the overnight bag into his hand. Stunned, the medical student knocked on the door and passed off the clothing to Combeferre, while Jehan continued pacing behind him. After exchanging a look with Enjolras and Grantaire, Joly sat down in a recliner. "Jehan," Joly began in a calm voice. "Please sit down. If you keep pacing like that you might make yourself sick."

The poet snapped his head in Joly's direction. "If you keep bullshitting me, you'll make me sick." He replied in the same calm tone before resuming his pacing.

Joly turned to the other two men is shock. Grantaire sadly shook his head and mouthed, 'He knows.' Before the medical student could reply, the bedroom door opened again and Combeferre came out.

Jehan turned frantically towards the door in a desperate attempt to see his fiancée. Sure enough, Courfeyrac had been watching him pace and their eyes briefly met. The scared, empty look in Courfeyrac's eyes will most likely haunt Jehan for life.

Once the door was closed, Jehan couldn't suppress a choked little sob. Immediately, Combeferre was at his side, rubbing his shoulders and trying to lead him to the love seat. The poet briefly tried to squirm away from the touch, but the urge to fight had fled him; he was still mad at them, but knew yelling would get him nowhere and just upset Courfeyrac.

Jehan let himself be guided to the love sear and sat beside Combeferre. Taking a deep breathe, he kept his anger in check as he spoke. "I know what happened. Nobody had to tell me, I figured it out myself. But why did Grantaire lie to me?"

Grantaire leapt up and knelt before Jehan, who flinched into Combeferre's side. Concerned, Grantaire gently took the trembling poet's hands. "I'm sorry, Jehan. I was asked not to tell you."

Combeferre rubbed the smaller man's back before adding, "I thought it would be better to tell you in person. It was also best to tell you when you got here. That way we could tell you if anything was wrong with him."

Jehan gasped slightly and turned to the older medical student. Combeferre squeezed his shoulder. "Joly did the exam. Courfeyrac was frightened so I stayed by his head and held his hand."

Tears welled in the younger man's eyes. "Thank you, Laurent. If I didn't put my damn phone in the wash, I would have been there. I should have been there for him." By now Jehan was crying. "So will he be okay?"

Joly cleared his throat and switched from hypochondriac mode to doctor mode. "There were no serious injuries. No tearings or broken bones. It appears that he was … forcefully penetrated anally. He is in some pain. There is some bruising and some cuts we should keep an eye on." Joly sighed sadly. "Psychologically, I'm not sure. He appears to be very shaken and scared. He hasn't said much."

Combeferre pulled Jehan closer to him. "Courfeyrac is very upset right now. I know you want to see him but you should be prepared; it's very common for victims of a rape to blame themselves."

Jehan swallowed thickly before speaking slowly. "I know. Erm… when I was younger… my uncle… used to … do…stuff to me. I kinda know how it is."

The other four men looked at each other in shock. Grantaire was the first to speak. "Jehan, I'm so sorry. If you ever want to talk about it…"

"It's fine." Jehan said quickly. "It started when I was like 5 and stopped when I was about 12. Valentin is my main concern."

Again the men exchanged a look before letting the subject drop, for now. Combeferre helped Jehan to his feet and led him to the bedroom door. "If you can just wait out here for a moment. I gave him something to help him sleep; but knowing Courfeyrac, I doubt he took it, so I'll see if he's ready to talk to you."

Jehan nodded and Combeferre knocked on the door before entering.

~oOo~

As expected, the pill was where he left it and Courfeyrac was dressed in a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Combeferre simply shook his head and sat down on the foot of the bed before gesturing to the pill on the night stand. "Would you like some water for that?"

Courfeyrac ignored the question and asked one of his own. "How's Jehan? Is he mad?"

The medical student moved to a chair and took his friend's hand. "Jehan is not mad at you. He loves you very much and nothing will ever change that." Combeferre gave Courfeyrac's hand a gentle squeeze. "Would you like to talk to Jehan before you take the sleeping pill?"

At this point, the brunette began trembling. He swallowed convulsively before nodding. Combeferre gave his hand a final squeeze before heading to the door. He quickly returned to Courfeyrac's bedside with Jehan. Courfeyrac looked between the two men, before biting his lip and stating barely above a whisper, "'Ferre, may you please leave us alone?"

Combeferre gave Jehan a quick look before nodding. "Yell if you need anything." Then leaning in close to Jehan, he whispered, "Make sure he takes the pain medication." With a pat on the hand for Courfeyrac and a shoulder squeeze for Jehan, the medical student left the men alone.

~oOo~

Once the door was closed, an awkward silence fell over the two lovers. Jehan knew better than to bring up Courfeyrac's recent attack, and was debating whether he should mention his uncle, before deciding now was not the time. On the bed, Courfeyrac was having his own internal debate. He decided not to mention the attack; because he was simply unable to talk about it, and because he feared Jehan would get jealous or mad about not being the first to take him. He was now wondering if he should tell Jehan about the ring now.

After about two or three minutes, Jehan found his voice. "Would it be alright if I sat down?"

Courfeyrac gave his boyfriend a strange look before gesturing towards the chair to his right. Smiling, Jehan sat down and placed the roses on the night stand beside the pill. He then shyly watched as Courfeyrac bit his lip again and swallowed thickly several times. "May I get you some water?"

The larger man suddenly realized that his mouth was very dry. Glancing at the poet, he addressed him for the first time. "Yes, please."

As Jehan raced to the bathroom to fill a glass with water, Courfeyrac glanced at the beautiful red roses on the nightstand. He assumed Jehan got them from the indoor garden and wondered if he found the note he left in the refrigerator. Jehan returned with a glass of water and Courfeyrac thanked him. The formalities were getting very old, but Courfeyrac did not wish to be the one to break the cycle.

Thankfully, Jehan must have felt the same way. "I found your note. The one in the flower fridge."

Courfeyrac felt hopeful for the first time in hours. "Did you find your present? More importantly, did you open it?"

Jehan let a startled laugh slip out. "I found the gift, but I didn't open it. We can do that when we get home." The poet paused before thoughtlessly adding, "I guess I have to rethink your present."

Jehan paled the second the words left his mouth. He had planned to surprise Courfeyrac in bed later that night and finally take him. He now knew that he could never do that in the foreseeable future, but he sure as hell didn't mean to bring it up.

Desperate to cover up his mistake, Jehan grabbed the roses and gave them to Courfeyrac. "Anyway, according to the list, red roses symbolize passionate love."

Courfeyrac blinked at him in shock, before he began to silently cry. "You still love me? After what happened?"

Gently, Jehan reached out and offered Courfeyrac his hand. "Mon cher, I love you more than anything. You should know, I faced a similar… situation myself, years before we met. I understand how hard it is. Please, take all the time you need; just remember that I will always be here for you, unless you don't want me."

Courfeyrac began to cry harder. "I love you, too, Jehan. But you're going to be so mad at me. He took your ring, I'm so sorry." The brunette squeezed Jehan's hand tightly with one hand and clung to his shirt helplessly with the other. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't leave me."

The poet had to admit that while he was expecting guilt; he was thinking along the lines of Courfeyrac blaming himself for the rape, not for having the engagement ring stolen. Jehan was temporarily stunned by his fiancée clinging to him, begging for forgiveness; he wasn't like that. Of course, it began when he was five and ended 7 years later, and he had to keep it quiet. Jehan forced his past out of his mind and wrapped the weeping brunette in his arms. "Oh, sweetheart. I would never leave you. I don't care about a ring; I'm marrying you for you, not a piece of jewelry. I love you so much, Valentin. Please, let me know if there is anything I can do to help."

For the next half hour or so, Courfeyrac sobbed loudly, resting his head against Jehan's chest, on a spot just above his heart. The poet was more comfortable with this; for 7 years, all he wanted was to bury into his mother's side after a bad night with his uncle. Of course, he could rarely do that, and could never do that after he was 9 years old; the truth would come out. He knows that it is difficult to ask for help in a situation like this. So for now, he just held his partner.

Eventually, Courfeyrac calmed down enough to really absorb what Jehan had said. He truly is loved, and the poet was willing to help and support him. Gently, the older man pulled back and forced himself to look Jehan in the eye. "Jehan, I want to move forward, I do. But I'm scared. What if I just… I can't. I'm sorry."

Jehan lightly put his hand on Courfeyrac's shoulder. He waited until the larger man leaned against his side and rested his head into the space between Jehan's shoulder and neck, before speaking. "It's okay, love. We can take things slowly. I promise, you can set the pace. Just promise me that you won't rush into anything for me." The strawberry blonde stroked the soft brown curls that were tickling his throat. "I love you so much. Nothing will ever change that."

Jehan couldn't help but beam as Courfeyrac smiled slightly and sighed in relief. As his fiancée's eyes slid closed, Jehan stopped petting Courfeyrac's hair and reached for the sleeping pill. "No, Jehan, please. I know I will have nightmares. If I take that I won't be able to wake up."

Jehan sighed, he was thinking the same thing. "I know, mon cher, but you need your rest." The poet glanced at the nightstand again. "At least drink your water. You haven't even touched it."

Again, Courfeyrac was suddenly struck by his thirst. Holding out his hand, he took the glass Jehan passed him and drained it in record time. He then gave Jehan his first genuine smile in the past four hours. "Thank you. And I don't need a pill to sleep. Please, just stay with me, I promise I will go right to sleep."

Defeated, Jehan helped Courfeyrac settle into a more comfortable position on the bed. He then got up and pulled two more chairs to the bed, making himself a bed of his own (Courfeyrac only protested half-heartedly; he felt bad that he had the bed, where they could both fit in comfortable, but couldn't bring himself to move over.) Courfeyrac did drag Jehan closer to him so he could rest his head against the poet's shoulder. "Can you play with my hair again? It felt nice and will probably help me sleep."

Jehan grinned down at his lover and ran his fingers through Courfeyrac's hair. Sure enough, Courfeyrac began to drift off. Just before he closed his eyes, he slowly pressed the back of his hand to Jehan's lips. The poet obediently kissed the other man's hand and, after taking Courfeyrac's hand in his empty hand, began massaging his palm. Sighing in satisfaction, Courfeyrac finally let his exhaustion take over his mind and body.

**A/N: Hope you liked it. I'll try to finish the next chapter, but it may not be up by the end of the week. I'll try though!**

**-Zie**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Here's another chapter. Let me know what you think. Enjoy. **

Chapter 7

Combeferre shut the door behind him and joined the other men. Running his fingers through his hair, the medical student ran through the nights (and mornings) events in his head. Groaning, he turned to his friends. "Here's the thing, I'm supposed to meet Eponine at her hotel tomorrow at 3 o'clock. Then we'll be gone for two weeks. Should I go?"

Joly rolled his eyes and sighed. "I get what you're saying, but you and 'Ponine have been planning this trip for months. It cost a lot to fly from Paris to Orlando, Florida. And it's too late to find someone else who can go. Besides, I'm positive Courfeyrac doesn't want them to find out what happened; if you don't go, they will ask questions."

Combeferre groaned again and looked at each of the men in turn. "Are you sure you can handle the situation? I mean, I'll be in another country tomorrow. I can't just drive down here if you guys need help."

Joly patted the older student's arm. "Hey, I may just be a second year med student, but you know I can help Courfeyrac. My flat is right next to their apartment complex, you know. And Enjolras and Grantaire live in the same building. I promise, everything will be fine."

Reassured for the most part, Combeferre stretched. "I'm going to bed soon. I have to be up and ready to leave by noon at the latest. Joly, you go back home to your family; Enjolras and Grantaire, do you guys plan to stay?"

The two men nodded and Combeferre walked Joly to the door. Once the younger medical student was gone, Combeferre turned to the others. "I'll sleep in Gavroche's room, you guys take my room. Just check on Courfeyrac and Jehan before you go to bed. Wake me if there is a problem. Enjolras, make sure I'm up by ten."

"No problem." After Combeferre left the room, Enjolras turned to his boyfriend. "R, love, why don't you go to bed? I'll check on Courfeyrac."

Grantaire smiled and wrapped his arms around the blonde. "'Kay, Apollo. Love you."

Enjolras grinned and gave him a peck on the nose. "Love you, too. Now go to bed."

Shaking his head slightly, the blonde knocked on the guest room door before opening it. Enjolras was mildly shocked to find Courfeyrac loosely wrapped around Jehan; who had one hand in the older man's hair, while his other hand was gently rubbing Courfeyrac's hand. Jehan glanced up and slowly freed himself from Courfeyrac's loose grip; causing the later to sigh softly, while remaining asleep. Silently closing the door behind him, Jehan approached Enjolras and pulled the other man into a tight hug.

Slightly alarmed, Enjolras wrapped his arms loosely around the poet, while the younger man silently sobbed into his shirt. After a few moments, Jehan pulled himself together and released Enjolras before addressing him. "Could you possibly run by my apartment real fast? I was planning on making Valentin cinnamon rolls for breakfast and I still want to do that. Only I left the stuff at home. It's in the refrigerator in a grocery bag; the dough is in a mixing bowl next to the bag. I'm positive the recipe is taped to the door." He paused for a moment before tearfully adding, "I just want to keep things normal for him right now."

Enjolras was shocked to find tears welling in his own eyes. He pressed a soft kiss into the poet's hair, something Grantaire and Combeferre have done to sooth him often. "Of course, Jehan. I'll leave it in the fridge for you, okay?"

The poet nodded against Enjolras' chest. "Thanks." Pulling away, the poet went back into the guest room as Enjolras grabbed his car keys.

~oOo~

_Courfeyrac was pressed awkwardly against the brick wall. He was back in the alley and the assailant was behind him; peppering his naked body with wet, opened mouth kisses. When the equally naked man pressed against his back, the scent of honey again filled the air. Disgusted, the student tried to pull away with his remaining strength. This earned him a punch to the ribs and his face was pressed hard against the dumpster near his head, which was sticky with God knows what._

_ The man's rough hands began stroking the front end of Courfeyrac's body, as he adjusted himself to enter the student. Using one finger to rub between the boy's cheeks, the bastard grabbed one of Courfeyrac's hands and forced him to stroke himself. For a second, Courfeyrac swore he felt the stolen engagement ring dig into his palm. The brunette then felt the older man remove his finger from his ass, before feeling the knife pressed against his back._

_ Whimpering slightly, Courfeyrac squeezed his eyes shut as his attacker began to enter him._

~oOo~

Courfeyrac's eyes snapped opened and he took a moment to take in his surroundings. He was in a bedroom, lying on a small bed. The alarm clock on the dresser in front of his said it was 7:53, judging by the sun light coming through the gaps in the curtains, it was morning. There was one hand in his hair and his own hand was being held by another.

These last facts brought an unintentional scream from the student's mouth; causing Jehan to jump and knock the three chairs he was sleeping on to the floor as he jerked violently awake. At the loud thud, Courfeyrac leapt the best he could to his feet and into a fighting position. Both men looked at each other in shock before Courfeyrac blushed. "Shit! Sorry Jehan! I just … um… nightmare… sorry."

Jehan smiled reassuringly as he let Courfeyrac help him to his feet. "It's alright, love. I understand." The poet helped his fiancée into bed and, with permission, sat down next to him. "Are you in any pain?"

Courfeyrac almost lied, but changed his mind halfway through. "No … well, actually, I'm in some pain, but I can handle it. Really."

Before Jehan could respond, there was a knock on the door, causing both men to jump. Grinning sheepishly, Jehan stood up and opened the door and found Grantaire. "Everything okay? Enjolras and I heard someone scream."

The poet smiled at the artist. "Yeah, we're good. Just a nightmare. What time is it?"

"About 8," Courfeyrac replied from the bed, joining the conversation but not looking at the doorway. "I slept for, like, four hours."

Grantaire grinned at the two men. "Well, Combeferre has to leave by noon to meet Eponine at her hotel. If it's okay with you, Enjolras and I are going to help you guys get home before 'Ferre leaves."

Jehan turned to Courfeyrac and the two men had a conversation entirely of blinks and nods, something only people very close can do. The poet turned to Grantaire before things could get too awkward. "That's fine. So we will leave around 11 or so?"

Grantaire nodded. "Yep. We'll be in Combeferre's room if you need anything. 'Ferre is in Gavroche's room. See you guys soon, then."

With a parting grin, the artist left the room. Jehan closed the door and stretched before turning to Courfeyrac. "Why don't you get dressed and rest for another hour? I'll be in the kitchen making breakfast."

Courfeyrac nodded and as Jehan leaned over him to gather the overnight bag; the brunette pulled the strawberry-blonde closer to him and, before he lost his nerve, kissed him on the forehead. Jehan looked mildly shocked before he beamed at his fiancée. "Permets-tu?" Courfeyrac nodded and allowed Jehan to kiss his forehead as well.

With a final smile, Jehan left the room.

~oOo~

Jehan practically skipped to the kitchen. He and Courfeyrac kissed! Sure, it was a quick kiss on the forehead, and the poet suspects his fiancée was not really ready; but still, it was a step in the right direction. Jehan opened the refrigerator door and beamed at the grocery bag and mixing bowl sitting where Enjolras said he would leave them.

Fishing the recipe from the bottom of the grocery bag; Jehan rummaged through the cabinets and drawers until he found spoons, bowls, knifes, a rolling pin, a cutting board, and a cooking tray. Spreading out the supplies, the young man rolled out the dough and prepared the cinnamon mixture before spreading it on the dough. Rolling the cinnamon covered dough, Jehan then cut the log into eight even pieces. Greasing the cooking tray, Jehan placed the rolls on it before sliding it into the pre-heated oven.

Then he made the buttercream icing. Sticking his pinkie in the icing, Jehan tasted the icing and struggled to keep himself from eating the icing by the spoonful while the cinnamon rolls baked. He was not the stereotypical gay man who watched what he ate, neither was Courfeyrac. Sure they ate healthy food, but they ate large portions of both healthy food and junk food.

With that in mind, Jehan beamed as he scooped out a spoonful of icing and, seeing that he still had 20 minutes before the rolls were done, he made his way to the guest room. He knocked on the door as he entered the room. Courfeyrac was fully dressed in jeans and a sweater, dozing off on the bed. Jehan gently sat on the edge of the bed and watched as his fiancée's eyes snap opened and look strangely at him (the poet adjusted his body so the spoon was hidden.)

"Valentin, love? Would it be alright if you closed your eyes for a second? I have a surprise for you. Nothing inappropriate, don't worry."

Courfeyrac smiled slightly. He could already smell the cinnamon rolls in the oven. It was a tradition for Jehan to bring the brunette a spoonful of icing before the rolls were finished whenever he made them. The hesitation in Jehan's voice, however, was new.

Shoving all thoughts and anxieties out of his mind, the older student fell into the familiar pattern of closing his eyes and accepting the buttercream icing. Once he felt the spoon gently slide out of his mouth, Courfeyrac opened his eyes and studied Jehan, who was studying him. This is usually the part where Jehan kisses and licks the remaining icing from the brunette's lips. Courfeyrac slowly leaned forward until the tips of their noses were touching, before he lost his nerve. Pulling back, Courfeyrac used his index finger to wipe off the remaining icing and held his finger to Jehan's lips. Jehan gave his fiancée a comforting smile and gently licked the icing from his finger.

Smiling awkwardly at each other, both men stood and left the room.

**A/N: A bit shorter than I wanted it to be, writers block sucks. If anyone wants the recipe for the cinnamon rolls, I have it. Just review. By the way, did anything seem familiar in this story? Something somebody said, perhaps?**

**-Zie **


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I am now in the process of writing two stories at a time. The other story is a Harry Potter story, so if anyone is interested, look it up. It is called "Camping With Malfoy". One of those Draco joins the trio stories and a Draco has a younger squib brother story as well. Sorry for self-promoting, especially to those who don't care for Harry Potter stories. Anyway, here's another chapter of Engagement Periods. Enjoy. I own nothing.**

**-Zie **

Chapter 8

The next three days were uneventful. Jehan and Courfeyrac went back home, after borrowing a cot from Combeferre so Jehan could sleep in the same room with his fiancée without sharing a bed. Combeferre came by before he left and the three men sat together on the sofa, saying nothing for half an hour.

The next morning, Combeferre called from Florida, saying that they landed and everything was good on their end. Before Jehan could reply, Courfeyrac pulled the phone away and spoke to Combeferre. "Hey, 'Ferre, you didn't tell them anything, right? 'Cause, Gavroche is like a brother to me. I don't want him to think differently about me."

The brunette could hear Combeferre addressing someone on his end, possibly Eponine, before all background noise came to a sudden stop. "Sorry about that. Had to excuse myself from the others. Don't worry. I didn't say anything. You let me know when or what you want to tell them."

"Not now. Just not now." Now Courfeyrac was beginning to cry. Jehan struggled to take the phone back.

Finally settling to put the phone on speaker, both men heard the end of Combeferre's sentence. "… seriously. Everything will be fine."

Looking at each other, Jehan and Courfeyrac spoke in unison. "Can you repeat that?"

Sitting in a men's' room stall in a Florida airport, Combeferre rolled his eyes. "I said I'll keep it quiet. I'll try to call every other day or so. Just tell me when you're ready."

Back in Paris, Jehan took custody of Courfeyrac's cell and, thanking the medical student for his time, hung up and grinned at his fiancée.

~oOo~

The most that happened those three days was a lot of gentle touching and hugging. Nothing very interesting happened; besides Joly screaming at Jehan, Enjolras, Grantaire, Combeferre, and even Courfeyrac for eating buttercream frosting from the same bowl ("That's disgusting! Is that all you are having for breakfast? Do you have any idea how sick you can get? Combeferre, you're going on an international flight tonight! You could make everyone on that flight sick!")

On the fourth morning, however, Courfeyrac woke up from a wonderful dream. He and Jehan were in the same bed, cuddling and kissing. For three days and three nights, every time the young man closed his eyes, he saw the stranger from the alley. This was a very pleasant surprise, and when he opened his eyes he discovered his body thought so too.

Quickly turning to Jehan's cot to check that he was still sleeping, Courfeyrac raced to the bathroom. After locking the door, the brunette dropped his pants and examined his erection. He looked just about ready to cum, with a little urging. It was painful and he knew he had to take care of it, but how? He didn't want to take a cold shower in case the running water woke Jehan, and he couldn't masturbate with his eyes opened. If he closed his eyes, he would only see that man; if he responded to the rape, he would surely respond to memories and he just can't do that.

He must have made some type of noise because Jehan was suddenly banging on the door. "Valentin? Sweetheart? Are you okay? Please unlock the door."

Ashamed and humiliated, Courfeyrac wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door a crack. "Jehan, I … I'm sorry. I-I need some help with … something." Stepping back, he let the poet in and, swallowing thickly, dropped the towel. Jehan's silence terrified him. "I'm sorry to bother you with this. Really, I am. I just … woke up and it was there. It won't go away."

Jehan picked up the towel and gave it to his mortified fiancée. "It's alright love. It happens to everyone. Nothing to get upset about. I understand. Now let's get you into bed, shall we?" Jehan led Courfeyrac to the bed by his hand.

Once both men were seated on the bed, Courfeyrac still refused to meet the poet's eye. "Jehan, I swear. I … I wasn't dreaming about … about him …"

"Oh, Valentin, darling. It's okay …"

"No, Jehan, really. I was dreaming about you!" Courfeyrac blurted the last part out and blushed twice as much. "We were just … in bed … only cuddling and … kissing. Nothing else. It was nice."

Jehan took Courfeyrac's hand and smiled. "Oh, mon cher, I've dreamed about the same thing. About having you sleeping safe in my arms. You should have said something. I mean, have you been thinking about this a lot?"

The brunette leaned his head against the poet's shoulder, still looking at his boner. "Since we got home. I didn't know how to ask, though."

Jehan grinned and gently pulled his fiancée closer. "Val, would you like me to stay in bed with you?"

Courfeyrac beamed into Jehan's neck. "I'd love that, Jehan. But … first, can you … erm … help me … with …"

Adjusting himself, Jehan held his fiancée's eyes, which were filled with trust, and slowly slid his hand down. With his palm hovering over Courfeyrac's throbbing cock, the poet spoke softly. "Are you sure?"

In response, Courfeyrac placed his hand over Jehan's and guided it to his erection. The brunette snuggled into the poet and encouraged him to stroke his length. Softly rubbing Courfeyrac's shoulder, Jehan used his other hand to massage the brunette's penis. Knowing his fiancée would not want this drawn out, the poet brushed the sensitive tip with his thumb. In less than a moment, Courfeyrac came with a loud gasp.

Tearing up, Courfeyrac stuttered apologies to Jehan. Waving off the brunette's words, Jehan took the towel into the bathroom and began to wash his hands, before noticing his own arousal. Closing the door, the poet quickly took care of himself, while biting his lip in order to remain silent.

Finishing up, Jehan washed his hands and ran a clean wash cloth under the faucet. Tossing Courfeyrac's pants over his shoulder, he left the bathroom and rejoined Courfeyrac on their bed. Using the wash cloth to clean the cum from the brunette's stomach, the poet whispered words of comfort to his fiancée. Once Courfeyrac was dressed, Jehan pulled his sheet and pillow from the cot and curled up with the older student. "It's about two in the morning so we should get some rest. Are you comfortable?"

Courfeyrac studied their positions on the bed, before squirming closer to Jehan and pulling the poet's arm over his own shoulder and snuggling into the other's side. The brunette then sighed in content. "This is perfect, sweetheart. Thank you."

As his fiancée drifted off in his loving embrace, Jehan realized that for the first time all week, Courfeyrac addressed him with a term of endearment.

~oOo~

For the first time in four nights, Courfeyrac slept for a full seven hours. He would have slept longer, if his stomach had not woken him up. He hasn't had much of an appetite these past few days; with urging from Jehan, he ate breakfast and either lunch or dinner every day. His last meal was a late lunch, over 12 hours ago. Turning, the brunette noticed Jehan was still asleep. Not wanting to disturb him, Courfeyrac slowly crawled out of bed and headed to the kitchen.

Standing in front of the fridge, Courfeyrac looked around the kitchen. He opened the cabinet where they kept the cereal before walking to the window, positive he heard something. Seeing nothing, he walked to the door and looked through the peep hole, then checked that the door was properly locked.

Taking deep breathes; the brunette opened the fridge and settled on pulling out eggs, cheese, peppers, and milk. He was pretty damn hungry and planned to make omelets for Jehan and himself. Heating up a pan, Courfeyrac mixed together the eggs, milk, and sliced peppers. It didn't look like enough. Fishing out another pan, the brunette tossed some sausages on to cook. Pouring half the egg mixture onto the other pan, he waited until the eggy juices stopped running before adding cheese and folding it in half. Once the first omelet was done, Courfeyrac moved it onto a plate and, after covering it with a lid, got to work on the second omelet. Just as he moved the other egg to the other plate and the sausages to yet another plate, Jehan called for him from the bedroom.

~oOo~

When Jehan first woke up alone in bed, he assumed that he was back on the cot. Then, after looking around some more, he thought Courfeyrac was in the bathroom. But that was empty too. _Did we go too fast? Was he really ready for this? Did I scare him off?_ These thoughts did not help Jehan. In a blind panic, the poet began screaming for his fiancée. "Valentin! Valentin, where are you? Valentin!"

Then, from the kitchen, Courfeyrac's beautiful voice, laced with alarm. "In the kitchen making breakfast!"

Sighing in relief, Jehan raced into the kitchen to find the brunette standing over the stove. The wonderful scent of sausages and peppers filled the room, and Jehan cleared his throat before stepping beside Courfeyrac. "Omelets?"

The brunette smiled shyly at the poet. "Yep. I got hungry. Sorry I scared you, love."

The poet waved off the apology. "It's fine. I over reacted. So is breakfast ready?"

Courfeyrac nodded, pleased that everything was almost back to normal. "Do you want some orange juice?"

"Sure, you?" the poet replied, pulling out the juice and two glasses.

Again, the brunette nodded and picked up two of the three plates. Gesturing to the living room, Courfeyrac lead the way to the sofa and put the plates on the coffee table, before going back for the other plate. "I got it." Jehan said, passing him the cups of juice before turning around.

The poet returned with the sausages, along with some knives and forks. The two men then settled on the sofa and surfed the channels, while eating breakfast, like any other Saturday morning.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Wow. This chapter was hard to write. I already have ideas for the next chapter, but needed one for between chapter 8 and chapter 10 to make it flow easier. I start classes on August 28, so I will have less time to write and post. Crap. I know there was more I wanted to say, but I can't remember what the hell it was. I want to get this up tonight, so whatever. Enjoy.**

Chapter 9

Finding nothing good on television, the two men settled on keeping it on Animal Planet and snuggling as they ate breakfast and watched cute baby animals play together. Once Jehan finished his omelet, he pressed a soft kiss onto Courfeyrac's head. "Thank you for breakfast, sweetheart. It was delicious."

Courfeyrac beamed at the compliment and the soft, gentle touches he was receiving. "Any time love." He chuckled as he reached behind his head to hand feed the poet a piece of sausage. "Since I made breakfast, you do the dishes."

Jehan mock scowled at his fiancée, but quickly smiled; Valentin was almost himself right now and he wasn't about to ruin it. "Fine. But first, let's go open my Valentine's Day present!"

Courfeyrac's eyes widened in shock. "Holy shit! I forgot about that thing! Why didn't you say anything earlier?"

Jehan began fingering Courfeyrac's stiff brown curls (the brunette hasn't been taking very long showers and the poet didn't want to force the issue.) "It just didn't seem like the right time."

Courfeyrac nodded in understanding before sitting up, dragging Jehan up as well. "True. Well, let's go. There's only so much _Too Cute_ I can handle." Jehan glanced at the screen, where two German Shepard puppies were licking the inside of each other's mouths, and smirked in agreement.

Both men laughed as they turned off the TV and raced each other to the garden room. Here Courfeyrac began to lose some of his confidence and stood behind Jehan (who was in front of the wrapped present,) before nervously placing his hands on the other man's hips. The poet looked over his shoulder and gave Courfeyrac's wrists a reassuring squeeze before asking excitedly, "Can I open it now?"

The brunette chuckled softly into the poet's neck. "Of course, love."

Slowly leaning back into Courfeyrac, Jehan felt his fiancée stiffen slightly before nuzzling closer into his neck. Grinning, Jehan reached forward and unwrapped the gift. Finally, after almost a week, Jehan found himself looking at a two person hammock. "Oh, Valentin!" The poet gasped, "I was actually thinking about getting one of these! Thank you so much!" Then, without thinking, Jehan turned and kissed Courfeyrac passionately on the mouth.

Almost immediately, Jehan pulled away in horror. He knew Courfeyrac was slowly nudging their relationship back to normal, but the poet had planned on letting Courfeyrac make the necessary moves. He never meant to kiss the brunette out of the blue. Courfeyrac just openly gawking at Jehan, before taking a cautious step forward and hungrily pressing their lips together again.

Jehan gasped slightly before mimicking Courfeyrac's motions as he kissed his fiancée back. They simply made out for a few minutes, no tongue, just their lips and their moans. Eventually, the men pulled apart and caught their breathe. Jehan sat on the box and Courfeyrac perched himself on the poet's lap, running his fingers over Jehan's stomach through the latter's shirt. "Wow." He said softly.

Jehan chuckled at Courfeyrac's reaction and pulled him closer. "I love you, Val."

Courfeyrac grinned into the poet's shoulder. "I love you, too, Jehan." Tipping his head back, the brunette quickly kissed the other man on the lips again.

Finally, they stood up together and Courfeyrac practically shoved Jehan out of the room. "Why don't you get started on the dishes? I'll start assembling the hammock."

The poet bit his lip in concern. "Are you sure? I think you should get some more rest. We could work on the hammock together."

Courfeyrac shook his head, still nudging Jehan out the door."Come on, I'm fine! Really! Go do the dishes!"

Alarmed by the brunette's sudden attitude change, Jehan nodded and left the room.

~oOo~

They probably should not have left the plates for so long. Sure, it was only a half hour, but the grease and food left on the plates and pans were now rather stubborn. It didn't help much that Jehan continuously paused to listen at the door separating himself from Courfeyrac. He tried to keep the door opened, but Courfeyrac slammed it shut; still pissed off. Since then, the poet could only hear the occasional swear or thud from the room.

Finally, after about an hour, the doorbell rang (prompting a muffled yelp from the flower room.) Wiping his hands on a towel, Jehan went to the door and let Joly in, who always comes around noon every day. The medical student studied the poet's nervous expression. "How are you, Jehan?"

The poet looked at the closed garden room door and replied in a whisper. "I really don't know. Val made breakfast this morning because he didn't want to wake me. Last night, we slept in the same bed due to a … personal issue. And after opening my present this morning, I kissed him. I didn't mean to, it just happened. Then he kissed me back and then we were making out. But then he wanted to build the hammock (that was my present) by himself. I tried to talk him out of it, but then he got pissed off and yelled at me." After his little rant, Jehan burst into tears for the first time since this started.

Joly dragged Jehan to the sofa and pulled him close. "Listen, I don't know much about the psychological effects of rape. But I do know that mood swings are normal. This isn't the first time I've told you this, and it won't be the last; but you have to be patient."

The poet took a shaky breathe. "I know, I know. It's just … I don't know … I'm just not sure if I can help him. What happened to me was similar, but … I was just … forced … to bottle everything up around my parents. I try to encourage him to talk and come to me … but I don't know when I'm going too far."

By now, Jehan was clinging to Joly's shirt, weeping too hard to continue speaking. Neither noticed the silence from the indoor garden. The medical student rubbed circles into the poet's arm. "There is no way of knowing how much is too much. However, if you need a break, my flat is right next door; and Enjolras and Grantaire are down stairs. Just let us know Jehan, and we'll stay with Courfeyrac and you can have the day to yourself."

"That's a very good idea, love." The men on the sofa turned in shock to find Courfeyrac standing by them. The slightly shaking brunette ignored their explanations and apologies. "It's alright guys. Jehan, I finished the hammock. Why don't you try it out while Joly … looks me over?"

It was the first time Courfeyrac acknowledged what happens when the younger medical student comes over. Jehan looked ready to question the brunettes last statement, before changing his mind and simply replied, "Call if you need anything. I love you."

"Love you too, Jehan!" Joly chirped as Courfeyrac reluctantly lead him to the bedroom.

~oOo~

The hammock looked wonderful. Jehan was afraid to lie on it, positive he would fall asleep. Instead, he went to his fridge and shuffled through the flowers, thinking he needed to restock soon. He did find, however, geraniums (meaning comfort) in a bluish purple color and pansies (for loving thoughts) in white with light purple highlights. Beaming, he pulled them out and filled a vase with water from the small sink in the corner. Arranging the flowers, the poet carried the vase out of the room and was almost run over by Joly. The medical student glanced at the flowers and nodded. "He's fine, just smells like shit."

The poet bit back a grin; personally, he was shocked that the hypochondriac had waited so long to comment on Courfeyrac's lack of hygiene. "Yeah, well, I really don't want to offer to take a shower with him."

Joly blushed slightly. "Yeah, well, he still smells. I really doubts that is good for his current condition. He has to bathe!"

Jehan groaned. "Thank you for your medical opinion, Joly." Then, after not so kindly asking Joly to leave, the poet went to talk to his fiancée.

Courfeyrac was lying in bed looking exhausted and, judging by his reaction to the door opening, jumpy. He quickly recovered, though, when Jehan placed the vase on the nightstand. The brunette moved over so the poet had room to sit, before grinning weakly. "You didn't try out the hammock, did you?"

Jehan grinned sheepishly. "I was afraid I would fall asleep. It looks great though. Do you like the flowers? The bluish ones mean comfort and the white ones mean loving thoughts."

The brunette thought for a moment. "The white ones are pansies, right?"

Jehan laughed. "I taught you well! Yes, those are pansies and the blue ones are geranium." The poet then grew serious. "So how much did you hear?"

Courfeyrac didn't pretend not to understand. "Not much. I heard you crying and came out to see if you were alright. I just heard Joly telling you to take some time to yourself."

Jehan nodded. "I know. And I promise, I'll try to take some time to myself. It's just … the last time I was away from you …"

"Jean." Courfeyrac suddenly snapped. "You and Joly and fucking everyone tell me not to blame myself for what happened. If I can't blame myself, then you can't blame yourself. Do you understand me?"

Jehan hung his head in shame. "Yes. Sorry love."

Courfeyrac gently tipped the poets chin up until their eyes met. "It's alright love. I shouldn't have snapped at you. This isn't easy for either of us." The older man sighed. "Let's just stop talking and sit awhile, alright?"

Jehan nodded and leaned against his fiancée, who smiled and pulled the little poet closer. Together, the two men snuggled and thought.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Important, please read. The government (at least in America, I don't know about other countries) is trying to sneak SOPA past us right now. This act will make it illegal to write or draw characters from books and movies. If this passes, every American (and maybe others) can and very likely will go to federal prison. There is a link on my profile, please follow it to sign a petition to help put a stop to this. Thanks for taking your time to read this part of the authors note. I don't know how many people in this fandom know about it; I heard about it in the Harry Potter fandom, so please, spread the word.**

**Now about this story, this chapter is where things get bad. In the beginning, the c-word is implied, so I am sorry if I offend anyone. Also I have just started classes, so updates will be even more irregular, but I hope to finish this story by the end of the year.**

Chapter 10

It was a bad week at the Joly household. Musichetta was on a honey kick and was going through almost an entire jar every day. She wasn't putting it on her food, because she claimed that would be disgusting; instead, she was eating it by the spoonful between meals and snacks. Occasionally, she would put some in her tea, but other than that, she just ate it plain. While Joly was distracted by Courfeyrac's rape, he was very aware of his wife's disgusting new craving. About two days after Jehan go his hammock, Joly finally snapped. "Chetta, please. I love you, but do you have any idea how disgusting that is? Not to mention unhealthy, for both you and the baby!"

The young woman turned a nasty shade of red. Sensing danger, Bossuet backed away and left his boyfriend and girlfriend to handle this their selves; he stayed in the room though, because come on, a pissed off pregnant chick is awesome (when she is not pissed at you.) What basically happened was Musichetta yelled at her husband for a good half hour or so, mostly incoherent nonsense, until Joly burst into tears.

Chetta looked slightly ashamed of her behavior. Just before she could apologize to Joly, Bossuet had to ruin it. "Musichetta, I love you, but you are acting like a real c***." This was followed by a long silence, and then Musichetta punched him hard in the face.

Figures, the one-time Joly isn't in the mood to fuss over his boyfriend's nose, it's actually broken.

~oOo~

Jehan sighed as he looked into the empty fridge. With both men unable or unwilling to leave the apartment, they were pretty much out of food. The poet didn't want to leave Courfeyrac alone; the grocery store was only five blocks away, but still. And up until this point, Courfeyrac didn't want to leave the safety of their home.

As if on cue, Jehan felt hands wrap around his thin waist and warm breathe on his neck. The poet smiled and leaned back into his fiancée's touch, who tensed up for a second before he nuzzled into Jehans' braided hair. "We should probably go shopping."

Jehan slowly turned around and wrapped his arms around Courfeyrac's neck. "You sure?"

The brunette gave the poet a halfhearted smirk. "We have to eat, don't we?" Leaning forward, Courfeyrac kissed his fiancée on the nose.

Jehan grinned as he gently pressed against the larger man. "Who's driving?"

~oOo~

They haven't been in the grocery store for more than ten minutes when they were ambushed. "Jehan!" Musichetta shrieked as she pulled him into a bone crushing hug. Courfeyrac jumped about two feet in the air before recognizing Musichetta and Bossuet, the latter took a more appropriate approach and held his hand out for the brunette to shake.

"What the hell happened to your face?" Courfeyrac blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Valentin!" Jehan scowled at his partner while Musichetta and Bossuet howled with laughter. The bald young man grinned kindly at the two men. "I called 'Chetta the 'c' word and she punched me." Now Jehan and Courfeyrac laughed loudly while the pregnant woman simply smirked.

The brunette continued piling fruits and vegetables into their cart as Jehan chatted with their friends. The group shopped together for some time before Musichetta raced to the bathroom to vomit (traditional 1 pm morning sickness.) When she returned, she took one look at the roasted chicken, which is what sent her running in the first place, and her mouth literally started to water. The three men grinned at each other and the poet picked out a chicken. "Would you two like to join us for lunch?"

Jehan nearly dropped the chicken as the words left his fiancée's mouth. The other two looked at each other just as shocked, before nodding. Bossuet gave them a rather forced smile. "Better get two, then."

~oOo~

It wasn't until the four were in the elevator that things took a turn for the worst. Jehan and Courfeyrac were holding hands, while Musichetta and Bossuet were making out. The elevator door opened and Musichetta didn't notice. "Honey," Bossuet murmured. "Honey, the door is opened."

Giggling, Musichetta led her boyfriend out of the elevator; both nearly colliding with Courfeyrac, who seemed to be in a trance. By comparison, Jehan was in a blind panic. "Valentin? Valentin, sweetheart? Can you hear me? Valentin!?"

But Courfeyrac didn't hear his fiancée, desperately calling his name. He only heard on voice, one word. _'Honey. Honey. Honey.' _ The voice never said the word in Courfeyrac's memory, but he knew how it would sound on that bastards lips. Sickeningly sweet. _'Honey. Honey. Honey.'_

The horrified looks Jehan and the other two exchanged went unnoticed by Courfeyrac, who was clearly in some form of shock. The brunette didn't react beyond a flinch when Jehan and Bossuet physically carried him into the apartment and laid him on the bed. Bossuet told Jehan that he would make them some tea, and left the room to join Musichetta, who was on the phone with Joly in the other room. Finally alone, the poet turned to his fiancée, who was shaking like a leaf. Without hesitation, Jehan pulled his partner onto his lap and held him tight, rocking slightly as he spoke clearly into Courfeyrac's ear.

"Valentin? Love, you're safe. Joly is on the way. Just listen to my voice, darling. Don't worry, I'm right here. Can you give me some sort of sign that you can hear me?" Jehan got a sporadic jerk in reply followed by a whimper. The poet sighed in relief and nuzzled into the greasy brown curls under his nose. "You're doing great, Valentin. Bossuet will be back soon with some tea, and Joly will be here any minute to check you over. It's alright, I won't leave you."

~oOo~

In the kitchen, Bossuet was making the tea and Musichetta just got off the phone with her husband. She then turned to beam at her boyfriend. "Joly will be here in about five minutes. Do you need any help?"

Bossuet grinned. "If you could spare some of your precious honey, I would be much obliged. I just can't shake the feeling I did something wrong."

The pregnant woman passed her jar of honey to the bald man, before wrapping her arms around his waist. "I'm sure this has nothing to do with us. He may just be stressed out after being out in public today. Don't worry, love. Just bring them their tea."

After adding a spoonful of honey to each tea cup and knocking on the bedroom door, before entering with a (slightly too cheerful) smile. "I come bearing cups of tea!"

Jehan rolled his eyes as he accepted the cups and passed one to Courfeyrac. The brunette clung to the tea cup as if unsure how it got there, while the poet spoke to their guest. "Is Joly here yet?"

Bossuet shook his head. "He'll be here in about three minutes or so. 'Chetta is cleaning the kitchen."

Jehan had to laugh. "Well, why don't you invite her to join us?"

The bald man's reply was cut off by a blood curdling scream. Courfeyrac had just taken a large mouthful of tea, before spitting it out and dropping the cup with a shout. Jehan dropped his own tea cup and grabbed his fiancée by the shoulder, causing the larger man to scream louder.

Jehan and Bossuet exchanged a look before Bossuet practically fled the room, leaving the lovers alone. "Valentin! Darling, please look at me! Just take deep breathes and listen to my voice. It's alright, sweetheart, Joly is on his way." The poet soothed, and despite his frightened tone, it was working.

The two didn't have to wait long for Joly, who burst through the door with his medical bag and just about shoved Jehan off the bed. "What happened? Courf, you are white as a sheet right now. Jehan, go get me some warm water and a washcloth. Don't worry, I won't do anything until you get back."

Jehan glanced at his fiancée, who was trying to curl up as far from the medical student as possible. Swallowing thickly, the poet raced into the bathroom and gathered what Joly had asked him to get. He then sat between Courfeyrac and Joly, ignoring the medical student's glare. The brunette let out another scream as Jehan touched his arm before clinging to the poet. When Joly tried to move to the other side of the bed, Jehan gripped his arm and wouldn't let go until Courfeyrac's breathing evened out. The strawberry blonde then adjusting himself and his lover so they were facing Joly.

The medical student was quick to discover that Courfeyrac's condition was more psychological than physical. He couldn't suppress a sigh; Combeferre was better with the emotional stuff. Joly decided to handle this himself, if he had to he would get Combeferre on Skype for help if necessary. Joly quickly composed himself before meeting (or trying to meet) the brunette's eyes. "Courfeyrac, may you please tell me why you are so upset?"

Courfeyrac whimpered, with his head buried in Jehan's neck, he began to tremble again. The medical student looked at the poet for help. Jehan took a deep breathe. "I have some theories, but …" He really hoped Joly wouldn't ask the obvious question.

"Well, what are your theories?" Joly asked, desperate for some form of answer.

_Shit!_ The poet thought before reluctantly answering. "Well, Bossuet said … something in the elevator shortly before Val froze up. After he calmed down, Bossuet brought us some tea. I didn't have any, but Val took a sip and … became upset."

Joly shook his head, half at whatever his boyfriend did and half at Jehan avoiding his question. He was distracted by the poet reaching over him and sticking his index finger into a small puddle of tea on a shard of the broken ceramic cup. Before Joly could properly freak out, Jehan put his finger to his mouth and gasped at the honey tainted tea. While Joly was babbling about germs and sounding less and less like a second year medical student, Courfeyrac pulled far enough away from his fiancée to give him a questioning look. He never said anything about his abuser's appearance, let alone what he smelled like. Yet Jehan seemed to know, but how? Could he have said something in his sleep?

Meanwhile, Jehan's mind was racing. Courfeyrac's panicked reaction to the taste of honey, even the mention of honey frightened him. The way he avoided using the word as a term of endearment. At first Jehan thought it was because of him; Jehan never said the word if he could avoid it. Val didn't understand it but he tried not to say the word in his presence. However, he always slipped up at some point every week, but this is the longest he has gone without saying the word. He may be jumping to conclusions, but Jehan was afraid that he may be right.

Slowly standing up, the poet pulled the love of his life into a tight hug; something very difficult to do as they were both shaking. "Sweetheart, please tell me. Was the man about 6 foot 2 with blonde hair?"

Shocked, Courfeyrac nodded and whispered "He smelled like … honey."

Both men winced at the word, which didn't go unnoticed by Joly. Ignoring the confused look from the medical student, Jehan tearfully whispered in Courfeyrac's ear. "I'm so sorry." The poet then continued in a louder tone. "I have to go. I will be back in two hours. I swear, l will call if I will be longer."

With that, Jehan bolted through the bedroom door and out of the apartment. He continued running until he was halfway down the staircase before sliding to the floor. Curling into a ball, the poet wept as memories of his shitty childhood caught up to him for the first time in 5 years.

**A/N: I am so sorry. The last part of this chapter was rushed. I had no idea how to end it. Also, as I was typing this, I was watching a TLC story about the survivors of 9/11. Not the best distraction from a sad-ish chapter. Again, follow the link on my profile and spread the word that SOPA is back.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: So sorry it took so long. School is insane right now. Anyway, this is a long, sad chapter in which Jehan's story is revealed. I am aware that there may be some mistakes, but in my defense, I really wanted to give you all a chapter after weeks of nothing, and I also am a woman, so I don't know much about male puberty (and I am not about to ask my younger brother for details.) I am not stupid, I know puberty doesn't happen that fast, but for the sake of this story, it does. Anyway, enjoy this terrible, depressing chapter.**

**Fun fact: At the time of Victor Hugo's death, there was no electricity or internet. Therefore there was no fanfiction. And therefore, I cannot be Victor Hugo, so I don't own Les Miserables.**

Chapter 11

When Jehan was five years old, the babysitter his parent's always hired moved to the United States. Giavanna, his older sister, was eight at the time and was deemed too young to watch Jehan for more than half an hour. Not wanting to put an end to their monthly "date nights", their parent's enlisted the help of Uncle Marcus. Both children adored their father's twin brother. On birthday's and Christmas's Uncle Marc came over with amazing gifts for the children. He would enter the house with stories about his travels to other countries, along with small souvenirs for his niece and nephew in addition to presents. Their father would always laugh and say that the only thing that wasn't identical about them was that Marc was single and, therefore, had a life.

Anyway, after their regular babysitter moved away, Uncle Marc volunteered to watch the children for free. After all, he only lived three miles away; there was no need for a complete stranger to stay with the kids. So Jehan's parents went on their date and he, Vanna, and Uncle Marc played Monopoly (which Marc got in America) for hours. Vanna nudged her brother and pointed to the New York square on the board. "That is where Jess moved."

The small boy nodded solemnly and rolled the dice. He sighed in relief when he passed Broadway, where his sister had already placed two hotels and a house. Five minutes later, Uncle Marc landed on Broadway and groaned, looking at his pile of 1's, 5's, and 10's. "Well, now seems a good time to stop." The children laughed and Marc grinned at them. "Looks like Vanna won! You can turn on the T.V. while Jean takes his bath."

The boy sighed and followed his uncle upstairs to the bathroom and watched him fill the tub. Marc caught his nephew's eye and smiled. "Are you going to get in with all your clothes on?"

Jehan returned his uncle's smile and stripped quickly before getting into the water. His uncle sat on the toilet. The child turned to look at him before shrugging, thinking that his parent's forgot to tell Uncle Marc that he, Jean, was a big boy. Grinning at the thought, he pulled a rubber duck and two Barbie's from the bath-toy bucket. For a moment, Jehan wondered if his uncle would tease him for playing with dolls, like the mean boy in his kindergarten class. It was sad, really, that Jehan had no friends who were boys, because he preferred to play jump rope with the girls instead of running around on the grass with the boys. His dad was worried and wanted him to try playing like the other boys, but his mom and sister said it was okay for him to play like the girls.

Jehan studied his uncle. Marc grinned at his nephew, silently encouraging him to continue playing. The young boy smiled back and returned his attention to his toys, oblivious to his uncle's eyes on his body.

~oOo~

Jehan's parents went out again the next month and they asked Uncle Marc to babysit again. This time, Marc and the kids made pizza from scratch, something that Marc learned in Italy. They ate the pizza while watching cartoons in the family room. Both siblings got a kick out of the fact that their uncle, who traveled around the world, needed them to explain the concept of _The Rugrats_, _Hey Arnold!_, and _Rocket Power_. Marc eventually gave up and, seeing the time, led Jehan up to the bathroom.

The boy was much more comfortable this time and was undressed and had his toys picked out before his uncle finished filling the bath tub. Jehan quickly jumped in the water and started playing, before a large hand took the toys from his hands. Thinking he was in trouble, the child began to shake. Marc simply grinned. "Don't worry, Jean. You're a big boy and I want to show you how big boys wash themselves."

The five year olds eyes lit up. His parents told him he was a big boy, but they never taught him how he should bathe himself. He eagerly beamed at his uncle, who smiled back and began rubbing his nephew's body with a soapy rag.

~oOo~

Two years had passed and Jehan was now in second grade. His parents were still going out every month and Uncle Marc still babysat. Every night, he would help Jehan take his bath. As he got older, Jehan felt that his uncle's behavior was wrong, but he didn't know what to do. After his 8th birthday, the perfect solution occurred to him; he would start taking showers instead. The next three times Uncle Marc watched them, he did leave Jehan alone, and he felt that he solved the problem without having to tell on his uncle.

One month, however, Jehan's parents went out to a party and Vanna went to a movie with some friends, leaving Jehan and his uncle alone. The first three hours went fine; they ate popcorn and watched an American horror movie that Jehan normally was not allowed to watch. After the movie ended, Marc began to channel surf while Jehan chatted excitedly about the boy in his class who used to tease him for playing with dolls, and was now his friend. With a grin, Uncle Marc put a hand on Jehan's back and began to massage his neck. The child felt a chill up his spine. "Uncle Marc?"

The man smiled coyly at his nephew and slid his hand under the boy's shirt. "Yes, Jean?"

Jehan gasped and tried to pull away. "Uncle Marc. Please, stop."

Marc simply smirked and continued running his fingers over the child's bare skin. "Why? Doesn't it feel good?" To emphasize his point, the man tickled Jehan's stomach.

The boy struggled not to giggle. "Please, Uncle Marc. Don't do this. Please. I… I think it's wrong."

Suddenly the hand slipped out from under Jehan's shirt and pinned him to the couch by the collar of his shirt. Marc's blue eyes flashed dangerously. "How dare you! Here I am, playing with you, making you feel special, and you tell me it is wrong! You ungrateful little –" A car door slammed outside and both males looked up. Through the window, Marc could see Giavanna coming up the driveway. He loosened his grip on the child, "Go take your shower, now! And Jean, this never happened."

With tears streaming down his face, the terrified boy nodded before racing upstairs. Just before he turned on the shower, Jehan heard his uncle warmly greeting his sister.

~oOo~

Two months later, Vanna graduated from elementary school. In celebration, she was going to a slumber party at a friend's house. Jehan had planned to stay over at his friend, Bahroel's, house, along with their other friend Grantaire. However, Jehan had lied to his mother several times, then yelled at her when he got caught. As a result he was grounded and would be staying home with Uncle Marc while his parent's went out. The night was mostly uneventful; Jehan sulked in his room and only came out to eat supper with his uncle. The child was worried that his uncle would touch him again, but the talk they had the last time seemed to have worked. After dinner, Jehan returned to his room and didn't see his uncle again … until he was in the shower.

Jehan was washing his hair when he heard the door open. "I'm in here!" he snapped.

The curtain slid opened to reveal Uncle Marc, glaring at his naked nephew. "Looks like your parents were right. You have a major attitude problem." With that, Marc got in the shower, closing the curtains behind him. Only then did Jehan realize his uncle was naked.

The boy was terrified. Backing away as far as he could, he gawked at his uncle. "What the hell?"

There was a hard smack on his chest, leaving him gasping for breath. "Young man, I do not want to hear that language from you!" Marc snatched a bar of soap and jammed it in Jehan's mouth. "Next time the two of us are alone, I only want to hear you say 'Yes sir' or 'Please sir'. Is that clear?"

He pulled the soap out of the boy's mouth, the latter promptly replied "Yes sir." Smirking, Marc shoved the soap back between Jehan's teeth before roughly turning his nephew and pressing him into the tile wall. Desperate, Jehan began to struggle and whimper; before his uncle kicked him in the groin. The child could only cry as he felt himself being adjusted.

Suddenly, Uncle Marc was inside of him and Jehan tried to scream. He just barely started before his head was smashed into the wall. "Shut the fuck up!" Marc hissed in his ear, thrusting the whole time. "You are a filthy little liar. Don't even bother telling anyone. Who would believe a stupid kid like you?" The pain from the thrusts was blinding on Jehan's small body. The harsh words stung nearly as much as the shampoo in his eyes.

_Is this what I get for lying?_ Jehan thought. He was 8 years old and knew nothing about sex. All he knew was that his uncle was causing him pain and Jehan assumed it was some form of punishment for his behavior. He whimpered again as some type of warm liquid shot into his body. The child guessed that this signified that his punishment was over, because after the liquid entered his body, Uncle Marc shoved him aside in disgust and left the bathroom.

Trembling, Jehan waited for what felt like five minutes before spitting out the soap. As the water began to run cold, the boy let his body throb and his teeth chatter as he examined the bite marks in the bar of soap. Uncle Marc shouted from downstairs to stop wasting water. Jehan jumped to his feet, biting his lip to keep from crying out in pain. He turned off the water and quickly wrapped himself in a towel. "Yes, sir."

~oOo~

Uncle Marc didn't have much time alone with Jehan over the next four months. Vanna stayed at home, but while that stopped Marc from visiting Jehan in the shower and shortened the assaults, they still occurred. Jehan wasn't penetrated again, but his uncle came to his room to "check on him". Marc became more daring with his visits and touching; to the point where he came in twice a night, even when Vanna was awake downstairs. The first few times, Jehan would complain to his parents, claiming that he didn't need a babysitter and that Uncle Marc treated him like a child. Just like what his uncle had implied, it only made things worse.

His parents decided that his negative behavior was coming from his new friends and told him to stay away from Bahorel and Grantaire. Frightened and unsure of what to do, Jehan did as he was told and stopped talking to the only male friends he had and never complained about his uncle again.

So his sister and parents remained oblivious to the sexual abuse. Bahorel and Grantaire tried to get Jehan to at least explain why they couldn't remain friends, but the boy was stubborn. Eventually, they gave up and Jehan remained alone.

Five months after the incident in the shower, Vanna went out again with friends, leaving Jehan alone with Marc. Things where normal for the first half hour or so, they watched a movie on Comedy Central and Marc ignored Jehan completely. The boy hoped that his uncle was just as disgusted with him as he was with his uncle. Uncle Marc suddenly turned to his nephew. "Would you like some chicken tenders?"

Jehan forced a smile, "Sure, that would be great. Thanks." He tried to look away, but a firm hand on his chin held his head in place.

"Do you even remember what we talked about last time?" Marc snapped in disgust.

The boy froze, but still tried to talk some sense into his uncle. "Please, Uncle Marc. Don't do this. Don't hurt me."

There was a sharp slap to his face; Marc clearly no longer cared about visibly marking his nephew. "Stupid little bastard! Let's try this again. Do you remember what we talked about?"

Jehan stubbornly held back his tears. "Yes, sir."

Smirking, Marc passionately kissed his nephew on the lips. "Good boy. Let's go get you some chicken."

Jehan let his uncle take his hand and lead him to the kitchen. "Yes, sir."

~oOo~

As promised, Marc made chicken tenders and cut them into bite size pieces for Jehan, who knew better than to say anything. Jehan ate his chicken in silence with his uncle watching him. Marc ate several spoonfuls of honey, waiting impatiently for Jehan to finish. The eight year old sensed this and purposely ate slower than normal.

"Are you done yet?" Marc snapped.

Jehan sighed, knowing how he had to answer. "Yes, sir." He stated as he watched his uncle take the half eaten plate away.

Uncle Marc returned with a grin. "Let's go watch the movie." With no other choice, Jehan followed the blonde man to the living room. Marc sat first and pulled Jehan onto his lap, letting his erection poke the boy's thigh.

~oOo~

Around the time Marc was leading his nephew to his bedroom, Giavanna's best friend's mother was driving her home. She had gotten her period for the first time five minutes earlier. First she screamed, then she got excited, then the cramps hit so hard she just wanted to curl up and die. She slowly got out of the car. "Thanks for the ride, Mrs.S."

"No problem, sweetheart. Do you want me to come in and explain the situation to your uncle?"

"No thanks. I'll just take an Advil and wait until I bleed to death."

Mrs. S laughed as she put the car in gear. As she pulled away, she called out the opened window, "Welcome to womanhood!"

Vanna groaned and silently let herself into the house. She took two pills and went looking for Marc and Jehan. Looking around downstairs and glancing at the clock, she automatically assumed that they went out. Shrugging, she went upstairs, pissed that the pills were doing nothing for the painful cramps. Vanna was just about to enter her room when she looked down the hall again; a light was on in Jehan's room and the door was cracked opened.

For reasons unknown to the teen; Vanna had the urge to flee, to run down the stairs and slam the front door, calling out to her uncle that she was home. She took a deep breath and walked to the opened door, telling herself she was being stupid. Still, she remained silent as she peered through the opened door.

Inside, Jehan was lying on the bed, naked, as Marc straddled his small body. The man had the young boys legs spread as he penetrated his bottom. Other than soft whimpers, Jehan was completely silent; yet he was still scowled for the pained sounds escaping his lips. Suddenly, Jehan's eyes snapped opened and he met his sister's mortified stare. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he gently shook his head; which went unnoticed by Marc, who had his eye's closed in pleasure.

Hand pressed firmly to her mouth, Vanna silently fled to her room and locked the door behind her. Using her cell phone as a light, she rummaged through her school bag and found the handout given to her class by a guest speaker at school. It was a pamphlet, really, about what to do if you or someone you know is being sexually assaulted. Shaking slightly, she silently shoved the pamphlet under her mattress; planning to slip it under her brother's door after Uncle Marc left.

~oOo~

Three more years passed with little change. Vanna rarely left the house when Marc came to babysit. Of course, at 12 years old, Jehan could mostly handle himself while his parents went out for two or three hours. But they still insisted that he has adult supervision if it would be several hours.

The 'I can handle myself' mentality began around the time Vanna found the infamous sexual assault pamphlet torn to shreds in her back pack an hour after slipping it under Jehan's door on her way to the bathroom. He hasn't spoken to her since and his uncle continued the late night visits to his room.

Like many 12 year old boys, Jehan's body was going through changes. His voice began to crack, his father bought him deodorant and told him to shower at least twice a day, while his mother taught him to always give the toilet seat a "curtesy wipe" before leaving the bathroom. The biggest change, however, came with Uncle Marc. As usual, he came into his room late at night, after Vanna reluctantly went to bed. The boy sighed and spread his legs the way he was supposed to, trying to block out what would soon come, but fully aware that his attempts would be in vain. Still, Jehan closed his eyes and bit his lip to suppress a pained yelp as his uncle entered him dry, like usual. But something was different. This time, the wild thrusts almost felt … good. For the first time since this nightmare started, Jehan didn't want to cry out in pain, but cry out in pleasure. The boy was horrified, and began to panic as his body began to react, causing his penis to throb painfully.

The trusting suddenly stopped as Marc realized that his nephew was becoming aroused. With a grunt of disgust, he pulled out and gripped the boy's swollen penis in his hand. As he rubbed vigorously, he scowled the panting child, telling him how disgusting he was. When Jehan strayed them both with cum, Marc slapped him hard. With one final look of disgust and disappointment, Marc left Jehan's room for the last time.

~oOo~

Marc moved to England the next month and, apart from the occasional phone call or letter, the family never heard from him again. Jehan's father was hurt, but bought the story that Marc was simply too busy to call or write more often. Jehan, however, was relieved. In those five years since his uncle left, he had the freedom he never had. He began talking to his sister on a civil tone and even ate lunch with Bahorel (Grantaire ran away from his abusive father when Jehan was 16.) Jehan had his own car and a job at a convenience store near his school.

After wandering into an Alliance meeting, Jehan felt comfortable enough in his sexuality to determine that no matter what Uncle Marc did to him, he had always been gay. Bahorel accepted him and convinced him to come out to his parents.

Jehan had it all planned out. He wrote a poem for his parents, listing all of his good qualities and what made him who he was. He also baked half a dozen cupcakes, each were decorated with a single letter. He would then ask his parents to arrange them until they spell out 'I am gay.' A week after he graduated high school, he came downstairs with the poem and the cupcakes, only to hear his father yelling from the kitchen. "I don't care what the police say! Marc would never do such a thing!"

"Martin, five boys claimed to have been assaulted by Marc! One child even caught the assault on his webcam! How can you say he never harmed those children?"

Swallowing thickly, Jehan entered the room. "What's going on? What did Uncle Marc do?" His voice was higher than he wanted it to be, but what could he do?

His father brisled, "Some boys in England claim that Marc molested them, but that is bullshit! I know Marc and he would never harm a child!"

Vanna slammed the table with her fist. Jehan jumped, he didn't even know she was there. Taking one look at her furious face, Jehan knew what was coming. "Vanna, don't."

She completely ignored him. "Dad, I know Uncle Marc did this. I've seen him doing it. I've seen him raping Jean when he was 8 years old!"

There was a collective gasp from Jehan's parents. Shaking, Jehan dropped the cupcakes he was holding. Tears ran down his mother's face. "When did this happen?" She sobbed.

Jehan didn't stay for the response. Instead, he bolted to his room and shoved everything within reach into his empty school bag, leaving room for his laptop. Pausing only to grab his phone, wallet, and car keys, he ran down the stairs. Ignoring his family yelling after him, Jehan left the house and raced out of the driveway.

He rode around for five minutes, emptying his bank account, before he drove to Bahorel's apartment. After telling him that his parent's kicked him out, Bahorel let him stay. About a year later, the two friends moved to Paris and met up with Grantaire, along with the rest of the Amis.

~oOo~

Jehan's eyes snapped opened. He was still seated on the staircase in his apartment complex. Wiping his tears away, he saw that his two hours were almost up. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he ascended the stairs which led to his fiancée.

**A/N: On that depressing note, the next chapter will have Jehan and Courfeyrac. It won't be much happier, but it will have Jehan and Courfeyrac.**

**~Zie**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Joly stared at Jehan for a full minute after re-entering his apartment. Despite Bossuet nudging him, the medical student studied the red-eyed poet from across the room. Finally, Jehan broke the awkward silence. "How's Valentin?"

"Huh … oh … Val … yeah, he's fine. I got him to rest for an hour or so. I think he is getting ready to take a shower." Joly decided to leave out the fact that Courfeyrac woke up screaming ten minutes ago. He also ignored the fact that Jehan whimpered slightly at the mention of the shower.

The poet seemed to be lost for words. He cleared his throat for a few minutes, before he finally spoke. "Well, I guess I'll go check on him." Jehan stated, in a voice about an octave higher than normal. "If you'll excuse me." Not waiting for a response, he nearly bolted to the bedroom.

~oOo~

Courfeyrac froze when he heard the bedroom door slam, followed by a quick knock on the bathroom door. "Val, love, may I come in?"

Sighing in relief, the brunette wrapped a towel around his waist. "Sure Jehan, come on in! Are you feeling any better, sweetie? You left so fast …" Courfeyrac cut himself off when he turned around and saw the poet's pale face.

Alarmed, Courfeyrac motioned for Jehan to close the door behind him, before grasping the poet's arm, causing the latter to flinch violently. "Jean? Sweetheart? What's wrong? Come here, sit down."

After shoving his fiancée onto the closed toilet seat, the brunette took his partner's hand in both of his and rubbed it soothingly. Jehan looked at him as if he were a stranger. "Jean, darling, you're scaring me. Please, talk to me, I'm begging you."

Slowly, Jehan placed his free hand on Courfeyrac's shoulder. "Valentin, there's something I … we have to … there's something you should know." The more the poet struggled to string his words together, the tighter his grip became on the other man's shoulder. "I … I … I don't know how to say this."

Tears rolled down the strawberry blonde's face as he shook his head frantically, as if he were trying to shake the troubling thoughts from his skull. Courfeyrac moved to sit on the edge of the bathtub and pulled the poet as close as the tight space would allow him. Jehan's braid had come unraveled at some point and the brunette began running his fingers through the wavy, shoulder length locks. "Sweetheart, don't worry. We can talk later if you would like. Why don't you lie down while I take a shower?"

Jehan thought for a moment. On the plus side, he was getting a chance to stall the inevitable unpleasant conversation; but on the negative side, he wasn't ready to be away from Courfeyrac, even if only a door separated them. "Um … I have to take a shower, too. Would it be okay if I … uh … took a shower at the same time?"

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow. An odd way to ask if they could shower together, but he would take it. The brunette shyly smiled and dropped his towel. Jehan returned the smile and began to strip.

Soon, both men were naked and in the shower. The poet was pressed against the wall, scrubbing vigorously with the soap despite the fact that he wasn't even being touched by the water. Courfeyrac studied him as he washed his hair (there was only the one bar of soap and Jehan was hogging it.) After a moment, the brunette took the poet's hand and gently led him within reach of the warm water. Taking a rag, Courfeyrac slowly began to rub Jehan's body.

The poet tensed at first, but soon relaxed and let his fiancée wash the soap from his body. Slowly, Jehan pulled away and gently rubbed the soap over Courfeyrac's chest. The brunette smiled down at the smaller man. "Thanks, love. That feels nice." The poet slowly looked up and grinned back. Courfeyrac took this moment to press a gentle and loving kiss to the ginger's lips.

Jehan was shocked momentarily, before moaning in a mixture of pleasure and relief. After all those hellish memories, it was nice to be in the arms of someone who would never harm him in that way. The poet snuggled into his lover's arms, seeking the warmth and safety only the brunette could provide.

Courfeyrac slowly began to deepen the kiss when he felt Jehan begin to pull on his hair. As his tongue stroked the roof of the other man's mouth, the brunette felt his body soften; except for a certain part. For the first time in two weeks, Courfeyrac felt ready to take things further.

Gently, the older man moved the younger one until his back was pressed against the cool tiles. Jehan gasped in shock as the brunette's hands moved down his body. "Val?"

Courfeyrac misinterpreted the poet's questioning tone. Thinking that Jehan was asking if he was truly ready for this, the brunette gave his fiancée a coy smile. "Don't worry love. I'm ready."

The older man was completely powerless to the needs of his body. He was having the time of his life (compared to the last two weeks.) He was completely unaware that Jehan had stopped breathing and was trying to pull away. It wasn't until he pressed his hardened penis against the poet's placid one that his eyes snapped opened and he stared at Jehan in shock.

The young man pulled away the first chance he got and curled into a ball. Jehan whimpered softly, facing away from the stunned brunette. A full minute passed before Courfeyrac snapped out of his trance and turned off the shower. Kneeling beside the trembling poet, Courfeyrac gently touched his shoulder. Jehan flinched away from the touch and slammed his head hard into the tiled wall. The brunette winced sympathetically while the poet barely reacted, which only added to Courfeyrac's concern.

"Jean." Courfeyrac said firmly. He knew that he shouldn't be raising his voice at Jehan while the latter was in such a state, but he didn't know what else to do. "Jean, you have to stand up now. Don't worry, I have a towel for you right here. Would you like me to help you stand?"

The poet lifted his head slightly. With his eyes fixed on the wall somewhere near Courfeyrac's left shoulder, Jehan stated in a drained voice, "Yes, sir."

The brunette felt a chill run down his spine. He had no idea why, but Jehan's last statement frightened him more than his recent behavior. Courfeyrac quickly wrapped Jehan in the towel and nearly dragged him to the bed, whispering words of comfort into his ear. "Okay, Jean. You just relax. I'm going to talk to Joly about … something. Just stay here, love." Courfeyrac whispered as he tucked the poet into bed.

"Yes, sir," came the reply from under the covers. Courfeyrac's stomach churned as he raced out the door.

~oOo~

Upon finding the apartment empty, Courfeyrac threw opened the door and looked down the hallway. From the stairway, he heard Bossuet's laughter, followed by Joly's. He hasn't left his apartment alone for weeks, but that didn't stop him from racing down the stairs. "Joly! Joly! Wait, please!"

The medical student whipped around while Bossuet stumbled on the stairs at the sudden shouting. "Courfeyrac? What are you doing? What's wrong?"

"It's Jean! I don't know what happened. We were in the shower and he just started to flip out! You have to help me, please!" Courfeyrac practically bellowed in the medical student's face. It wasn't until Bossuet handed him his sweatshirt that the brunette realized he was naked.

"It's okay. Don't worry. Tie the hoodie around your waist and we will go upstairs. Bossuet, Combeferre texted me a few minutes ago, telling me that they are back. Can you let him know that I will call him in an hour and to be alone?" Bossuet nearly bolted down the stairs while Joly was dragged to the top floor.

~oOo~

The two men entered the bedroom to find Jehan just as Courfeyrac left him; curled into himself and silently weeping. Joly wasted no time in checking the poet's pulse while the brunette rubbed his fiancée's shoulders and whispered encouragements to him. It didn't take long for Joly to confirm that Jehan's problem was psychological. Relieved that Combeferre was at least in the country to help with this one, Joly helped Courfeyrac pull the poet into a sitting position. The medical student paused to think about how to address the issue when Courfeyrac beat him to it. "I think now is a good time to talk, sweetheart."

Jehan sniffled and buried his face into the brunette's bare chest; pulling the towel his body was wrapped in tighter, as if he were cold. Joly grabbed a thick blanket from the closet and covered the ginger. Jehan didn't glance at the medical student, he never even move his head away from Courfeyrac's body. Instead, he took a deep breath and began his story.

The other men listened patiently as the poet struggled to tell them about 7 years of hell. The only sound besides Jehan's voice and the occasional reassurance from Courfeyrac, was the scratching of Joly's pen on a sheet of paper; he was taking note of what the poet said so he could pass it on the Combeferre, who again, could handle the emotional stuff better than he could. Courfeyrac felt his stomach churn at the recounts of the various assaults the love of his life faced at the hands of his uncle. There was something in Jehan's voice, the brunette didn't know what, but something told him that this was related to his own assault. He listened to Jehan tell them how he learnt that he wasn't the only child his uncle abused and how his sister shouted out his secret during an argument with their father.

Out of nowhere, Courfeyrac realized the reason Jehan wanted to tell him. He finally connected the two horrific storied. He didn't need Jehan to tell him what happened, but he still did. "Valentin. I am so sorry. I don't know how he found me, or if he even knew I was so close. But … I-I think it was my uncle who … who …"

Tears welled in the brunette's eyes as he finished his partners thought. "Who raped me."

As the lovers held each other, Joly slowly stood and silently left the room. He boiled some water for coffee and sat at the kitchen table. Pulling out his phone, Joly texted Musichetta, letting her know that he was spending the night. Taking a deep breathe, he glanced at his notes, then at the bedroom door, where he could hear muffled sobs. The medical student dialed a number and waited impatiently for Combeferre to pick up. "Hello?" he heard after the third ring.

"'Ferre, you have to come down to Courfeyrac and Jehan's apartment ASAP. This whole situation has gone to shit."

**A/N: Hey. Hope you enjoyed this depressing chapter. Sorry if it kind of sucks, I am so sick right now and I might be getting a migraine. The chapter was half typed already and I had some free time, so here you go. Next chapter might include either some fluff or Eponine and Gavroche finding out about what happened. I don't know yet but I do know how I want it to end. Until next time.**

**~Zie **


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